


It Takes a Thief

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Case Fic, Clueless Tim, Eventual Romance, Fine Art References, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Heists, International Travel, M/M, Movie References, Stray!Jason, literature references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 22:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: “Why does this sound like a plot for one of the Ocean’s Eleven movies?” Jason asks, arms crossed over his skintight black bodysuit. “Seriously, all you’re missing are George Clooney and Brad Pitt.”Reminding himself that he can’t do this without Stray, Tim answers. “Well, we’ve got an international antiquities smuggling ring, a ton of bored rich people with nothing better to do than show off how much money they have, and we get to dress up in ridiculously expensive tuxedos, all the while concealing weapons and tech that will undoubtedly get us kicked out or worse if the bad guys find it. This almost sounds like something that happened to me last month but without the antiquities part.”





	It Takes a Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I didn't think this would happen or so soon, but for those who are keeping track, this is my 100th posted fic to Ao3. As such, I decided it needed to be something special, so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do!
> 
> Many thanks to GoAwayOlivia for beta reading this. I think she would have had my head if I let anyone else touch it before her!

“Why does this sound like a plot for one of the  _Ocean’s Eleven_  movies?” Jason asks, arms crossed over his skintight black bodysuit. Here in the depths of Tim’s workroom at the back of the renovated theater apartment, his goggles and black hood are pushed back, revealing rugged good looks and intense teal eyes. “Seriously, all you’re missing are George Clooney and Brad Pitt.” 

Not for the first time, Tim forces himself to focus on the task at hand rather than on the cat-thief who has unknowingly held his stolen heart for the last few years. If Jason says yes, this is going to be absolute hell on his nerves. 

Reminding himself that he’s a professional, that he can’t do this without Stray, Tim answers. “Well, we’ve got an international antiquities smuggling ring, a ton of bored rich people with nothing better to do than show off how much money they have, and we get to dress up in ridiculously expensive tuxedos, all the while concealing weapons and tech that will undoubtedly get us kicked out or worse if the bad guys find it. This almost sounds like something that happened to me last month but without the antiquities part.” 

Jason just shakes his head, but it’s clear he finds this all amusing and at least somewhat interesting, or else he’d have walked out of here already. He’s done it before. “It’s hard to believe this is a normal Saturday night for you.” 

“Well, to be fair, I do own more tuxes than I care to admit to.” 

“Too bad I can’t borrow one. My last one got ripped to hell by the Bat-brat and I need to relieve a few rich bitches of some jewelry at a party in a couple of days.” 

Tim doesn’t even blink. They’ve had this discussion several times and it never sticks. Stray prowls the higher end of Gotham society much like his mentor Catwoman does, the two of them cutting quite the swath when the mood and opportunity strikes.

Unlike Selina, Jason is considered more of a Robin Hood amongst the general masses whenever stories of him surface, but all the Bats know better. The man is much more than just a thief in a leather catsuit and he viciously protects what he considers his while dipping those clawed hands into  _other,_ even less legal, activities. He’s still one of Tim’s best friends despite this and they’ve gotten into more than one argument how Jason’s illegal activities don’t benefit anyone but him. While it’s true that Jason funnels much of those funds back into the community and into the hands of people who need it, he also keeps a good amount for himself since keeping up to date with the newest tech is expensive.

Tim can understand that part. Being a costumed hero takes a ton of money and he has Batman’s bank account at his beck and call. Jason has only himself and him when he feels like taking advantage of the connection, which does seem to be more since Tim struck out on his own and got his own place. He’s become a fixture in his life, which is nice since he spends more time alone now since his work takes him outside of Gotham more often than not. Red Robin is a global fixture of justice, working from the shadows. But even he can feel lonely. 

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

Jason shoots him a cocky grin and keeps reading, his gaze up on the monitor as he goes over Tim’s case notes, slim that they are. “You don’t have a lot to go on, do you?” he comments after a few minutes.

“Not yet, but Oracle is digging around and so am I. The date is about all we know for certain at the moment.”

“That doesn’t help much. The auction could be anywhere. And probably not even in the United States.”

“I sincerely doubt it. My guess is Southeast Asia. Thailand or Macao, maybe.” 

“Cue the James Bond theme song.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. But you’ve got to admit it sounds fun,” Tim replies, leaning back in his chair. “When Oracle sent this my way, I couldn’t help but be intrigued.” 

“How so?” 

“My parents were amateur archeologists,” he explains, settling into storyteller mode. “When Mom and Dad were in town, most of my time was spent in museums and listening to stories about various artifacts. Sometimes, they’d even have collectors come visit the penthouse. It was only when I got older and was able to bring myself to go through Dad’s personal effects that I learned everything they’d done wasn’t necessarily above board.” 

“Ooh, someone’s got stolen goodies,” Jason teases, a sharp grin appearing as his attention lands back on Tim. “Anything I might be able to take care of for you?” 

Tim laughs and tosses his stress ball at the cat-thief, who easily catches it in his gloved hand. “Ironically, it’s actually this connection that I plan on using to try and get us an invite to this auction. I don’t care what’s being sold or to whom right now. I want to know who these guys are and who their suppliers are. If this is who Oracle and I think they are, then this group has been around for a  _very_  long time and have never even come close to being caught. If we can get our foot in the door, then we’ve got a chance.” 

Jason holds up a clawed hand, stalling Tim. “Okay, I hate to knock you off your high horse, but I have one very good reason why that isn’t going to work.” 

Tim frowns. “What?” 

“You’re not going into this place as Tim Drake. You’re going in as Tim Drake- _Wayne_. As in, the son of Bruce Wayne who happens to be one of the biggest funders of Batman. Anyone with even halfway decent connections in the black market knows this since he made that little announcement awhile back.” 

Shit. The frown grows. “I didn’t even think about that.” Well, there went that entire plan. “Dammit, now I’m back to square one.” 

“Slow your roll, drama queen. You’re not the only one who’s got connections. I actually heard about this shindig from one of my sources and I might be able to snag an invite for myself.” Jason idly taps his lips, eyes distant as he thinks it through. 

There’s an ongoing joke within the family that Jason is very much a fly by the seat of his pants kind of guy and wouldn’t know a plan if it bit him in the ass, but Tim knows better. As one of the best thieves in the world, of course he has to be able to plan ahead and have contingencies. He wouldn’t be as successful as he is if he didn’t. Still, Tim has to tease him whenever he finds Stray in one of those situations where the shit has absolutely hit the fan and it’s do or die time. What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t? 

Friend. This isn’t the first time Tim wishes he and Jason could be more. He knows all too well what he wants, but Jason is hard to read. As Stray, he’s got the flirty banter and sensuous moves of Selina perfected and adapted to his much more masculine form. The short, scrawny teen of Tim’s memories is now tall and almost as muscular as Bruce. But despite the bulk, Jason moves with a grace and speed that rivals Dick’s. Where he learned this, Tim has yet to be able to pry out of him. All of this, combined with his razor sharp wit and dry humor, is enough to make him want to cry because he  _has no clue_ if Jason even thinks about him the same way. 

So Tim sits in the friend-zone and waits. One day, an opportunity will come knocking. It has to. 

“Okay, so I think I can do this. I need to call in a few favors and probably grease some palms. You givin’ me a budget to play with?”

Tim nods. “Just run the amounts by me first.” 

Jason grins and leans against the workstation, his long legs with the tree-trunks thighs just inches away from where Tim’s hands rest. “If I can get you in, does it really matter? I hope you’re ready to dive into your wallet though because you’re paying for my new tux.” 

~*~*~ 

The initial logistics are surprisingly easy once Tim gets Barbara on board with the plan. Everything hinges on Jason getting his hands on an invite, but the last time he checked in with the thief, he seemed confident. While Stray isn’t exactly known as a  _buyer_ , he is a seller with quite the reach. 

Tim tries to ignore this part. Jason’s shady history and sticky fingers are doing him a massive solid here, one that will make his life infinitely easier once they find out the location of the auction, a fact made even more complicated by the complex RSVP process. 

“They have to be doing this to double and triple check credentials,” Tim mutters quietly to himself one night about a week after he broached the topic to Jason. It all makes sense that this group wants to cover their hides and maximize profit. With that in mind, it would not surprise him in the slightest if Jason has to hit him up for a loan to deposit some earnest money. 

A security notice pops up on Tim’s screen, alerting him to someone entering his private space. In the distance, he hears the roar of a motorcycle. 

“Speak of the devil.” Tim gets up from his computer chair and heads down to the garage level. 

Sure enough, Jason is just parking his motorcycle as he hits the last step. It throws Tim off balance to see the man isn’t dressed as Stray tonight. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a brown leather jacket that’s seen better days. He removes a red motorcycle helmet and tosses a carefree grin in Tim’s direction. 

“Just the guy I was hoping to see,” he says. 

Tim huffs a small laugh. “Who else did you expect to find here?” 

“Well, sometimes I get lucky and Dickwing is here too. It’s always great to see someone whose ass looks as good as mine in tight spandex.” 

“Your thighs win, hands down.” It slips out before Tim can stop his mouth and he rushes to cover himself while wishing he were wearing his cowl to hide his embarrassment. “Especially compared to me. Next to the two of you, I just don’t stack up,” he says with a deprecating laugh. 

Jason doesn’t seem to buy it though and takes his words as an invitation to give him an obvious once over. “I think you stack up just fine, Timmers.” 

Heat rushes through him and Tim knows he’s blushing. He clears his throat and powers on through. Ignore, ignore, ignore. “Thanks, you’re great for my ego. What really brings you here tonight?” 

The thief lets it slide and reaches into his jacket. With a flourish, he reveals an envelope. “Lookie what I got.” 

Tim rushes forward and rips it out of Jason’s hand. _“Yes!”_ He wanders away, reading the rather detailed instructions. The dealers definitely know who they’re inviting as there are a number of ground rules for the thief to comply with. 

Behind him, he vaguely registers Jason getting off his bike and trailing after him. “You get to the deposit instructions yet?” 

Skimming ahead, Tim nods absently before returning to the list of rules. The amount is about what he figured it would be. “Wow, they’re actually letting you wear a mask?”

“I kinda got the impression that everyone is. Anonymity of the buyer and all that.” Jason pauses, then continues. “Once I agree to all that bullshit and wire the funds, they’ll send me the location and further instructions.” 

“Are you going to?” Tim asks, looking up to find Jason standing almost right in front of him. “They want to know your potential buyers and fences. That’s nuts.”

“No, what they’re askin’ is actually pretty reasonable. They want to know who their goods will end up with and if they can be trusted to keep their mouths shut. What they’re really after are the names of people I know that they don’t so they can work me out of the equation in the future.” 

Tim narrows his eyes. “Do you have some names you can give up like that?” 

“A few.”

“Any you care to share with me?” 

A sly smirk appears on Jason’s face. “If the price is right, sure.” 

“I’m about to front five million euros for this and let me tell you, the dollar to euro exchange rates suck right now, so it’ll end up being more on this end. What else do you want?” 

“Dinner and a movie.”

Tim has a feeling he’s doing a fantastic impersonation of a tomato right about now. This can’t be a date. No, it’s not. This is Jason pushing his buttons because that’s what he’s  _good_  at. Amongst other things. 

“When?” is what through some minor miracle comes out of his mouth. 

“You doin’ anything tonight?”

He can think of a million things, including running some analysis on the letter in his hand. Perhaps dust for prints even though he’s positive only Jason’s will be there. Tim is about ready to shoot him down when the detective part of his brain kicks in and he really  _looks_  at Jason. Behind the badass and cocky facade, he spots the hesitation and faintest signs of nervousness. 

In that moment, Tim realizes that if he says no, there won’t be a second chance. 

He can’t do that. 

Handing the letter back to Jason, he smiles. “Give me about fifteen minutes. You driving or am I?” 

“Depends. How much of that fifteen minutes is being spent on your hair?”

~*~*~

Tim drives, mostly because the thought of pressing up against Jason on his motorcycle is enough to give him heart palpitations. He tries to prepare himself for what he thinks will happen, but the reality shocks him more. 

The man he’s with tonight isn’t Stray. He’s Jason Todd. Sure, there are similarities, like the wit and dry humor, but that’s where it ends. It’s rather refreshing to not have to stay on his toes for sexual innuendos or random touches. 

Jason already has a movie picked out, so they head to the theater first. Once there, they fight over who buys the tickets, and then the overpriced popcorn and drinks. Tim wins by simply shoving Jason to the side and slapping his card down before the man has a chance to reach for his wallet. 

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” he complains as they make their way down the hall to the correct theater. 

“Takes one to know one,” Tim replies around a mouthful of popcorn. 

The movie is great and afterward, they argue over where to eat. Most of the places Tim would normally take Jason if this were a real date are already closed or close to it. Of course, he could throw around his name and get them to stay open just for them but that’s not him or his style. 

“What about Nanetti’s?” Jason asks, naming a decent pizzeria on the edge of the Bowery. 

“Thin crust or deep dish?” 

Jason narrows his eyes in suspicion. “You’re a thin crust kind of guy, aren’t you?” 

Tim grins wide. “Not usually, but I have to watch what I eat. Unlike Dick, who somehow manages to survive on cereal and fajita cheesesteaks, I actually have to work at maintaining my weight.” 

He has a hard time packing on the muscle and keeping it there. Phone reminders do wonders for keeping him on a regular, healthy, meal schedule. 

“That has to suck, but it doesn’t answer my question.” 

It’s a not-date. Or maybe an un-date. Kind of like an un-birthday. Whatever the justification, Tim decides to just roll with it tonight and make up for it tomorrow. “You decide, and I’ll eat it.” 

Jason takes gross advantage of this when they arrive and orders a large stuffed crust pizza with the works. Takeout seems to be doing a brisk business tonight, so the small bar at the back of the restaurant is nice and quiet. Tim orders them a pitcher of beer and ignores the questioning look from Jason. He takes it and the glasses to the pool table that no one seems to have used in an age where he sets up a game while they wait. 

“I thought you just turned twenty,” Jason says quietly as he watches Tim line up the cue ball to his liking. 

“Are you complaining about beer you didn’t have to pay for?” 

“Nope, just wondering what other laws out there don’t apply to you.” 

Tim breaks the racked balls with a swift and deft hand and grins as both a solid and a stripe end up in different corner pockets. “Do we need to have another discussion about private property and how stealing is  _wrong_?”

Jason takes a large gulp of his beer and sets the mug down heavily on the raised tabletop. “Hard pass. I already sat through that slide show once, I don’t need to see it again.” 

Over pizza, beer, and several games of pool, Tim learns a few things about Jason, things he never knew before. 

One, he’s surprisingly opinionated about literature, specifically romance literature. 

Two, he’s a snob about Shakespeare. 

Three, his favorite book is  _Pride and Prejudice_. 

Tim still isn’t sure how they got into the topic of books, but he now has a reading list written out on the back of a napkin. The first book is the  _Count of Monte Christo_. This apparently is something he absolutely  _needs_  to read because it’s underlined several times. 

He has no clue what Jason has learned about him and isn’t sure he wants to. 

Back at his apartment and the underground garage, Tim parks the street legal version of the  _Redbird_  and glances over at Jason. He grins right back at him, clearly waiting for the interrogation to begin. 

“Okay, you’ve been entertained and fed. Whose names are you dropping to get into the auction?”

“Talia al’Ghul and Slade Wilson.”

Tim gapes, opening and closing his mouth a few times because while he really wants to know how Jason knows two of the most dangerous people in the world, he’s not sure he’s prepared for that answer. Instead, he asks a different question. “I know Talia has expensive tastes, but I didn’t think Deathstroke the Terminator did too.” 

“Antique weapons and ancient Chinese art.” 

“Okay, that actually explains a few things.”

“Right?”

~*~*~

The wire goes through. Tim makes the process much more entertaining by borrowing the funds from the Penguin. 

“I think Cobblepot will notice,” Barbara comments via their video chat as Tim finishes up. 

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the course of my vigilante career, it’s creative accounting.”

“Spoken like the true son of a businessman.”

Tim grins and finishes typing. “Anything on the receiving end of things yet?” 

“The account is in the Cayman Islands. Big surprise there.”

“I could tell that from the routing instructions.” 

Barbara makes a face at him. “No one likes a smartass.” 

“Oh, wise and all-knowing Oracle, please grace me with your wisdom and knowledge so that I may peer into the unknown and become as enlightened as you.” Tim even bows at the end. 

On the screen, Barbara is laughing his antics. “If you were here right now, I’d be throwing something at you.” 

“At least I know it won’t be an escrima stick.”

“You sure about that?”

“Those are saved for the bad guys or when Dick pisses you off.”

~*~*~

Barbara manages to trace the money trail through a series of shell corporations to a bank account in Switzerland. She calls Tim a few of nights later to discuss the details.

“MRS Holdings Limited is registered out of Basel as an import/export company with many millions of euros moving in and out of their accounts monthly. Everything looks pretty above board too,” Barbara says.

So much for Asia. 

Tim pulls up a map of the city. “Isn’t the Rhine still one of the major arteries in Europe for commerce? It would be awfully easy to move product when you have that kind of infrastructure already in place.”

“It is, and it does.”

“I’m pretty sure the auction won’t be on their front doorstep,” Tim muses, chewing on the end of his pen. “But there are a number of other cities and towns along the Rhine that would be great candidates.” Scenic too. There’s a lot of history in this part of Europe. “Well, until we see what Jason gets from them, we’ll just have to wait. These guys definitely sound like a viable suspect, so I’ll start trying to get into their network and let you know what I find.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Barbara disconnects, and Tim gets to work. This is the kind of work he loves, that he thrives on. Yes, he’s an adrenaline junkie like the rest of his family, but he needs the mental stimulation as that’s what really sends him over the top. Jason likes to say this is him getting his nerd on and he isn’t that far off the mark.

A few hours later, Tim is reading over shipping manifestos and debating if he wants to get up to make another pot of coffee. Much of what he’s finding seems pretty legit and the invoices match up. It wouldn’t be the first time a company being used as a front for illegal deals also has perfectly legal ones too.

Standing, Tim stretches and yawns. He needs more coffee. Energy drinks are all well and good, but those are for emergencies or when he’s desperate. This case currently qualifies as neither. The only coffeepot in his home is upstairs in his kitchen, strategically placed there so that he has to actually work for it.

Before he makes it to the stairs, his security system chimes an alert and the sound of a motorcycle makes its way up the garage tunnel.

Company. 

Tim hopes it’s Jason and as he passes by his workstation, he grins when the alert confirms it is. Their not-date the other night is still fresh in his mind and he can’t help feeling slightly giddy over the prospect of seeing the thief, despite all his little talks to himself about not reading too much into things.

Nothing has changed. Nope. 

Even though he kinda wants Jason to ream into him for not starting his reading list yet. He’s just so  _passionate_  about his books and Tim can’t help but want that same passion and excitement turned onto him, even if it’s just a byproduct of the real deal.

He meets Jason in the garage again. This time, he’s dressed in sleek black leather and Nomex, his helmet a glossy black to match.

Business then. Eagerness stirs low in Tim’s belly and he rushes forward. 

“Did they send you another letter?”

Stray grins toothily as he removes his helmet, the detachable hood and goggles nowhere to be seen. “They did.”

“And?” Tim asks impatiently.

“Amsterdam.”

Tim feels like he just won the lottery.  _“Yes._ Oh, that fits so well with what Oracle and I have found.” He brings Jason up to speed as they head upstairs.

Coffee is still required, so he bypasses his workstation and goes up into his apartment. Jason hasn’t been into this part of his home before, at least that Tim is aware of, because he very well could have snuck in and never said a word about it. The thief doesn’t appear out of place at all in the kitchen as they wait for the coffeemaker to work its magic. It’s almost as though he belongs here, just two vigilantes shooting the breeze after a long night of saving the world. 

Tim knows better than to offer Jason a cup. He’ll only drink it when he’s utterly exhausted, so he heats some water and shows him where the meager tea collection resides.

“MRS Holdings Limited, huh?” Jason says as his tea steeps. “Sounds kinda pretentious to me.”

“The MRS part is from the founder’s last names,” Tim explains. “Moison, Roberts, Salvatore. The company has been around for almost a hundred and fifty years. The current CEO is Michele Moison.”

“Plenty of time then to take part in the Age of Exploitation.” 

“I think it’s called Exploration or Discovery.”

“I like my name for it better.” Jason tosses the tea bag in the trash. “You’re the son of a wannabe archeologist, you know all too well how the world powers of the time just swept in and stole treasures they had no right to.”

“An argument can be made for how that hasn’t changed all that much even today,” Tim comments pointedly and leans against the granite countertop. “But that’s for another time. The date of the auction still hasn’t changed, has it?”

Jason shrugs, letting it slide. “No.”

“Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking right now.” Tim starts to outline one of the plan he’s been fleshing out since this whole thing fell in his lap. “What do you think?”

“I think a lot of that hinges on whether Moison has a thing for handsome, young cat-thieves. Assuming she even shows her face.”

“You’re older than you look, and I’ve seen Moison pictured several times with men that are easily half her age. I still have some digging to do there, so I could be wrong.”

“Here’s to hoping because while I talk a great game, my follow through sucks. Mama-Cat is so much better at this kind of thing.” Jason hides behind his tea while Tim tries not to gape. 

This isn’t something he ever thought Jason would admit to. But it explains so much, why none of the flirting he’s done with him over the years has never gone further. Deep in his heart, Tim feels that little glimmer of hope stirring once more. Now isn’t the time to prod at it though. “I’ve seen you in action before. You literally charmed the panties off that one lady last year at a charity gala Bruce hosted. She tucked them into your pocket and wandered off. Dick and I had a bet over whether you’d follow her or not.” 

A bet he won. Jason stayed in the ballroom for nearly an hour before he finally left with Damian of all people. They found them later on in the game room battling it out over some zombie apocalypse game. 

Jason actually blushes, the pink stain highlighting some freckles Tim never noticed before. “That was... not what I was expecting her to do.” 

Laughing, Tim takes a sip from his coffee. “Then what were you trying to do?” 

“I was trying to find out when she and her husband would be outta town so I could rob their house.” 

“Then something definitely got lost in translation.” 

~*~*~

Over the course of the next week, Tim spends most of his time investigating MRS Holdings and their employees, combing through not only company records, but personnel files and social media profiles. It never ceases to amaze him the stuff people post online for all the world to see, even after the original post or profile was gone. 

His attention is focused almost solely on the members of the executive staff, although he’s sure most of the other employees are involved in some manner as well. The company is relatively small, about thirty people, but the amount of money that moves through their accounts is very impressive and speaks well of their legitimate work. Their buyers and sellers must be top notch. Which means they’re probably the ones who pick up the not so legal merchandise too. 

Why an auction though? This thought has been chasing through Tim’s mind for two weeks now. Is it because their inventory is maxed out and they need to clear space? Or is someone else hot on their trail, like Interpol, and they need to offload as much as possible? If the latter is the case, then where are they going to hide the funds? The Cayman Islands account? Or are there other shell companies out there that he hasn’t discovered yet? 

Questions. So many of them. 

The auction is in one week. Right now, all they have is a money trail leading to MRS Holdings, nothing more. Nothing physical that would implicate them the way Barbara wants to. All the manifests and invoices check out, which leads Tim to believe there’s another list somewhere, something with the actual items that are being sent and received. Their records are meticulous so it’s not a complete stretch. 

Now this whole thing is turning into  _Mission_   _Impossible_. 

Assuming they’re even looking in the right place. So much of the investigation hinges on this auction. Names. Faces. Merchandise. And maybe, just maybe, a computer he can get his hands on. 

That would be the nail in the coffin. 

Tim glances at his watch and realizes that if he doesn’t get moving, he’s going to be late for a meeting with Barbara. He sets everything in sleep mode and runs upstairs to change into something a bit more presentable than gym shorts. 

Traffic sucks, but this is Gotham so it’s just par for the course and one construction zone bleeding into the next. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” he says when he finally arrives. “No matter how I tried, I still can’t move cars with my mind.” 

Barbara laughs and wheels her way into the kitchen where she has coffee already brewed and waiting. “Makes me wonder what sitting in rush hour would be like with Superboy.” 

“Probably about the same as when we got stuck behind a tractor on the road one of the last times I went to Smallville. Kon has next to no patience behind the wheel and kept wanting to get out and give the thing a push.”

“Right into the next county, I bet.” Barbara hands him a mug and gestures for him to follow her. 

“Or the sun.” 

Oracle’s domain never ceases to send Tim into a state of awe. The technology they all use is so cutting edge that mainstream users won’t be seeing it for at least another decade, but here, there’s a combination of alien computing power gleaned from Barbara’s own battles that makes it a truly unique experience. His inner fanboy always squeals with excitement whenever he’s asked to help with an upgrade. 

They settle in at one of the workstations and Barbara pulls up a few screens with the flick of her wrist. Tim tries not to drool and wonders what he would have to do to get one of these for his workroom.  

“You’ll go on ahead to Amsterdam and set up shop. I’ve got you booked in a hotel a couple of streets away from the address on Jason’s invitation. I don’t see any reason why you can’t stay in the same place as him once he arrives. You’ll be close in the event something happens.” 

He nods in agreement and ignores the small thrill at the thought of staying in the same building as Jason. This isn’t some anime and it’s not like they’re sharing a room. “It’ll make packing a lot easier if I can get my hands on a plane.” 

The amount of surveillance equipment alone will take up a couple of suitcases. And Tim has no doubt that Jason will want his Stray uniform on hand just in case or to even take in a view of the city from something higher than street level.

“I’ve already spoken with Bruce and commandeered the Batplane for you. The reflective camouflage means you land it just about anywhere remote and leave it be, but here’s an old airstrip no one uses anymore that still has access to the A2 where you can then take a motorcycle into the city.” She points at a map and a place slightly to the southeast of Amsterdam. “Bruce said he’ll change out the plates on one of the bikes in the Cave for you.”

This is why Barbara is a miracle worker. Only she can get away with all this. Maybe Dick on a good day.  

Tim resists the urge to rub his hands in excitement. He loves flying the plane. All the  _power_  and the  _speed_ , the way the wonderous machine responds to the lightest touch. It’s even better than driving the Batmobile. “Have I mentioned recently how awesome and amazing you are?” 

Barbara laughs brightly, her face lighting up from her enjoyment. “No, but keep it up, Nerd Wonder. Flattery has been hard to come by of late.”

“I thought you and Dick were…” Tim trails off, trying to remember the last time he spoke with his older brother about anything that wasn’t work related. 

“He’s been busy,” she replies matter of factly. “We both have.”  

She pulls up a series of satellite images. “I know you’ve done this already so just humor me. Here’s the location of the auction. It’s an older hotel at the edge of the Museum Square. Very classy, very upscale. On the surface, it seems like the perfect location for something like this, but all I’ve got coming up in their computer is a reservation for an elite dinner the night of the auction.”

“You think the hotel is just a staging place?” Tim asks, following along with her train of thought. 

“I do. Which means we still don’t know where the auction will be and what Jason is really getting himself into. I wish we’d pushed harder now for a second person to accompany him. As it is, you’re going to be kept on your toes.”

“Prepare where we can and improvise where we can’t. It’s not like any of us haven’t done that before.”

“True enough.”

They discuss a few more things before Barbara minimizes her screens and leads Tim over to another workstation, this one full of gadgets he recognizes from the couple of times he’s worked with the Birds of Prey. While she explains what some of the esoteric items are, Tim can’t help but feel rather like James Bond waiting for Q to give him all the new toys for his mission, just without the lecture to bring everything back in more or less reusable condition.

Except for the plane. If he crashes that, there will be hell to pay. 

The dark tungsten carbide ring Barbara hands him catches his eye. “What’s this?” Tim asks, turning it so that the three small diamonds embedded in it shine under the light. 

“That is a short wave distress beacon,” Barbara explains. “It’s for Jason in case of an extreme emergency. Tell him to press down on all three diamonds at once to activate it.” 

“No problem. Any special comms for him?” 

Barbara produces another small jewelry box. “Jason has pierced ears, right?” 

“Yeah.” The look works for him, it really does. Tim has his pierced too but rarely wears any earrings unless it’s for an undercover mission. He has to periodically put earrings on just to keep the holes open.

“These and the distress beacon are about all I can safely give him. His instructions clearly state he’s not allowed any electronic devices that send and receive data, and I’m sure he’ll be searched when he arrives. As long as the earrings are not transmitting, they just look like dark studs.”

They go over a few more odds and ends. Tim has finished packing everything away in a large duffle-bag when he notices the pensive expression on Barbara’s face. “Something on your mind?” he asks, hoisting the thick strap onto his shoulder. 

“How are things between you and Jason?” Barbara finally asks, leveling a firm gaze on him. “I know you say you’re just friends, but even a blind person can see the two of you have some serious chemistry. I just want to make sure this won’t distract you.” 

Tim is blindsided by her statement. “You’re joking, right? We don’t have chemistry." 

The stern look wavers and disappears as Barbara starts to laugh. “Oh, Tim. Are you really that clueless? It’s like you and Steph all over again.”

He can feel the tips of his ears burning. “He’s a cat. I’m a bat. And while there is definitely precedence there, Jason just isn’t into me that way. Yeah, he flirts and teases, but so does Selina. That’s what they  _do._ ” 

Jason’s hesitation about his inability to follow through Tim keeps to himself. No one needs to know that.

Barbara chuckles ruefully and slowly shakes her head. “Keep telling yourself that, Nerd Wonder. Denial is a wonderful place.” 

“We’re fine. He and I are fine. There’s nothing to see here.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

~*~*~ 

Denial is not a place that Tim visits often, at least in regard to Jason. What they have between them, that’s the result of six years of hard work, as well as copious amounts of blood, sweat, and tears. Sure, he’s harbored a very secret crush on Stray since he was about fifteen and okay, that may have crossed the line into him actually falling in love with the man when Jason was the only person who believed him after Bruce’s not-quite-dead-just-lost-in-time episode. He knows this and acknowledges it. That doesn’t mean he’s going to act on it, even if the signals he’s getting from Jason over the last few weeks have been decidedly mixed.

Tim has no problem with lying to other people, but he tries hard not to do to himself. 

Still, Barbara’s words linger, and he stews on them the next day. His distraction is still present the day after when he meets Cass for lunch and she doesn’t hesitate to call him out on it. 

“What is bothering you?” she asks around a mouthful of the massive cheeseburger she ordered. Fries and a thick strawberry milkshake complete her meal. 

Tim wishes he could eat like that and dully pokes at his salad with the grilled chicken on top. He did splurge and got ranch today. “Nothing,” he tries, but it’s weak and Cass pounces on it without hesitation. 

“Barbara says you are hung up on Jason. That you don’t believe he cares for you the same way you do for him.” 

He makes a face and takes a bite of his salad. “Barbara needs to keep her mouth shut.” 

Why do all the women in his life like to pick on him? They think they’re being helpful, but they’re really not.

Cass smiles and sips from her milkshake. The pink is so vivid against the frosted glass. “I have not seen Jason for a while. I will have to find him before he leaves and see what he thinks now.” She nods firmly, decision made. 

Tim pales and wants to drown himself in his ranch dressing. “Please don’t. I’m happy in my misery.” 

This is going to end badly, probably with Jason being scarred for life and never wanting to see him again because Cass is by far the scariest of them all.

“How does that saying go? Misery loves company?” she asks with an innocent smile that is only belied by the glint in her eyes.

“I hate you.” 

~*~*~ 

The night Tim leaves for Amsterdam finally arrives, but before he heads up to the Manor and the Batcave, he has an errand to run first and disappears into the Gotham night for a brief run. He mostly just wants to stretch his legs and clear his head, but he’s also got a package for Jason that he needs to drop off.

One that includes the finished tuxedo he’d promised at the beginning of this entire debacle, as well as a suit that Jason apparently ordered as well.  

Tim knows where Jason is currently living and makes his way there by taking the rooftop route. The building is old and has seen better days, but the interior reveals a different face, one that speaks of cozy comfort. His renovated theater barely feels lived in while Jason’s shabby chic apartment shows distinct signs of his personality.

He had called ahead before he left, so Jason is waiting for him, living room window open and his body half inside and half out, a cigarette dangling loosely from one hand. On the other side of the window sill is Antigone, his prissy white and gray cat who never seems to do anything besides shed all over the place. She flicks her tail absently as Tim lowers himself onto the fire escape.

Jason shoots him one of his crooked half smiles. He’s clearly not going anywhere tonight, not in those sweatpants and t-shirt. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

“You are so ridiculous.”

“Says the guy who looks like he’s got a black condom stuck on his head.” Jason ashes his cigarette and inhales one last time before he stubs it out and drops it in an old can on the fire escape. “At least you’re always prepared.”

He winks and slips inside, giving Tim the space to follow after him. Which is fine because he needs a moment to cope with the stunning thought that just entered his brain and he doesn’t quite know how to process it. Has Jason been actually flirting with him the entire time? Or maybe not the entire time, but many times over the last few years?

No. No, he can’t be. This is just how he is.

Tim makes to follow after Jason and Antigone glares at him, not moving from her perch.

Typical.

He ignores the cat and once he less than gracefully enters, he slips off to the right and away from the open window. “Your cat hates me,” he comments while Jason shoos the white monster off to some far corner of the room where she takes a new seat from the top of a bookcase to watch him. He closes the window and the heavy curtains.

“She hates everyone. Including Selina.”

“I thought all cats loved Selina?”

“Some cats are just assholes. It’s probably why Tig and I get along so well.” Jason arches his back and stretches, the hem of his t-shirt rising up to briefly reveal toned skin and a dark line of hair disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Tim has never been so glad in all his life that he still has his cowl on. He can’t stop staring, the image seared into his brain even after Jason lowers his arms and the shirt goes back to hiding all that wonderous flesh. Goddammit, he needs to get a hold of himself. He’s a professional, not some horny teenager who can’t keep his dick in check.

“Takes one to know one,” Tim finally says after his brain comes back online. It’s a heartbeat too late and he knows it, but Jason just chuckles.

“I suppose so. You got some goodies for me?” he asks, changing the topic.

Yes, business. Tim can do business.

From under the depths of his cape, he removes the garment bag he’d strapped to his back before he left home. “One tuxedo, tailored per your specifications. I hope you went in for the fittings.”

“I did.” Jason accepts the bag and unzips it, nodding in satisfaction as he takes in the sleek lines. “I also ordered a new suit while I was there. They give you that too?”

Tim frowns and nods. “It’s behind the tux. Why did you order a suit?” It’s a nice suit, he’ll grant it that. The color isn’t one he can pull off well, but Jason most certainly can. Whenever he wears gray, it has to be a lighter shade.

“Because I wanted something nice to wear that wasn’t a monkey suit in case we decide to have a night on the town after all of this is done.” Jason hums quietly and disappears into his bedroom, presumably to hang up the tuxedo and the charcoal gray pin-stripe suit he’d also bought on Tim’s dime.

Tim swears his heart is going to beat right out of his chest at the prospect of having another night of simple fun with the other man. His imagination provides a very helpful image of what Jason could possibly look like in that suit and he likes it much better than the stark black and white of the tuxedo he knows the cat-thief strikes an impressive figure in. Why is he doing this to himself?

Oh, right. Because he likes to torture himself. Got it. Definitely a trait he’s picked up from Bruce and Dick.

Jason returns and flops down heavily on the overstuffed sofa. It’s very comfortable and Tim has spent more than one evening here playing video games instead of patrolling or spending time on casework. “You gonna prop up the wall all night or what?”

Tim slowly tears himself away from the wall and sits down next to the taller man. As a show of good faith, he removes his cowl and shakes out his hair from where it’s been plastered against his head after even this short amount of time wearing it. Dragging a gloved hand through it, Tim pauses, taking note of Jason’s intent gaze on him.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks, and a pained expression briefly flashes across the thief’s face before he starts to laugh.

“No, all the usual parts are still there.”

“Okay…” Tim feels a bit confused as he opens one of the compartments on his harness, but lets it slide. “I assume you have cufflinks?”

“Yeah. Nice ones too that I lifted from Bruce last year.”

Yet another thing to add to the list of things Tim doesn’t want to know about. “These are from Oracle.” He hands over the first jewelry box.

Jason opens the first one to reveal the ring. “Aww, Timmy. We haven’t even had our first kiss. How can I say yes without knowing if you’re any good with your tongue?”

Tim throws the other box at him and the cat-thief catches it easily. His ears are _not_ burning. Nope, they’re not. “You are such an ass. The ring is your distress beacon. Press down on all three stones with your thumb to activate it. The earrings are your comms in the event you’re able to transmit anything without getting caught.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

His heart starts beating loud in his chest and Tim is pretty sure Jason can hear it too. “Um, what question was that?”

Jason sets aside the jewelry boxes and faces Tim, resting one arm across the back of the sofa as he leans in ever so slightly. “Are you any good with your tongue?” he repeats, his gaze intent.

Oh god. This is happening. This is really happening. Is it? Or is Jason doing what he does best, sending out the signals and never following through? Tim swallows and opens his mouth, praying something clever comes out. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

That was actually pretty good.

Jason groans in frustration. “Christ, Cass said you sucked at this… Oh, fuck it.”

He closes the gap between them in one swift movement, pressing his lips firmly against Tim’s. For a brief moment, Tim has absolutely no clue what to do before letting out a small whine and returning the kiss with every part of his being. The tension that has been simmering between them comes to a boil and Tim feels like he’s about to explode, needing an outlet to express the tide of emotion welling up inside. He surges up against Jason, pressing him back against the sofa as he straddles his thick thighs, sweeping his cape out of the way.

Tim moans as Jason licks into his mouth, diving in and tasting every crevice, the ash from the recent cigarette somewhat hidden by mint. Distantly, he’s glad he brushed his own teeth earlier too, but even that thought is lost under the onslaught. His hands are tangled in Jason’s hair, clutching it tight, tighter even as Jason reaches under his cape to clasp the back of his thighs and press him closer against his body.

There is no sign of the shyness Jason says he experiences out in the field. In here, in the relative safety and privacy of his home, he is full of the bold and brash energy that Tim absolutely adores. Or maybe it’s because Cass let the cat out of the bag and he knows he won’t be rejected.

Out of nowhere, Jason rocks his hips against Tim’s, and he wants to scream because he can barely feel a thing aside from the uncomfortable confines of his armored jock.

Breaths mingle, and their tongues chase back and forth, neither man giving the other a chance to reclaim even a single moment of sanity.

That is, until Jason rips his mouth away from Tim’s and traces a line up his jaw to whisper in his ear. “Wanna take this somewhere that’s not the sofa? I got a perfectly good bed.”

It’s like a bucket of icy cold water is spilled down the back of Tim’s uniform. Clarity returns, and Tim realizes what he’s been doing and who he’s been doing it with. As much as he _wants_ this, _needs_ it even, now isn’t the time. He needs to be in the air in an hour, two at the very most, so he can still land outside Amsterdam under the cover of darkness. The little voice in his head whispers that maybe this will be his only chance, that it would be the work of a minute to disarm the traps on his uniform and shove his pants down so Jason can wrap one of his clever hands around his aching cock.

But he doesn’t. Tim leaps off Jason’s lap like he’s just been shocked by a livewire. “I – I… Shit. I gotta go.”

Jason is clearly displeased with the change of direction. “You don’t have to go anywhere. There’s nothin’ sayin’ you can’t leave tomorrow night.”

Tim already has his cowl back up and in place. “No, I need to go. Plans and other…stuff,” he finishes lamely, the complete and utter loser he knows is hiding just beneath his skin finally revealing itself to Jason. He shuffles lamely and darts over to the window, yanking the curtains aside and yanking it up.

Behind him, Jason is up and moving, trying to stop him. “Tim, wait. Please… Christ, do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to do that?”

Tim stills and shudders in the cage of Jason’s arms trapping him against the window. “Probably not as long as me.”

“Then why?”

“I can’t. Not now. Not yet.” With that, Tim breaks free and is out the window in a flash, running away into the night.

~*~*~

Thank god for lists, because if Tim didn’t use his, he sincerely doubts he’d have finished his own packing for the trip. As it is, his head is in a fog as doubt and insecurity ridicule him for leaving Jason high and dry. During the drive to the Batcave, he switches on the autopilot because his hands won’t stop shaking.

What has he done?

In the privacy of the _Redbird_ , Tim allows himself to have a little meltdown. He deserves it for being nine different kinds of an idiot, but underneath it all, there is the tiny little ball of hope he’s been squashing down for years, burning brighter and stronger because, as his memory is so keen to keep flashing back to, _Jason kissed him first._

By the time he makes it to the Cave, Tim has calmed down, mostly. Which is good because when he parks his car in the designated garage, he spots Bruce by the large bank of computers. The last thing he needs is for another detective, and the greatest one in the world, to notice that he’s anything less than composed when he’s about to leave on a mission.

Tim really hopes Damian is hiding around somewhere. He could use a good fight right now.

Bruce nods absently as Tim approaches the computers, his cowl pushed back while he works. The fact that he’s suited up indicates he plans to go out at some point.

“Hey, Bruce,” Tim says, trying for casual and praying he succeeds. “Thanks for letting me borrow the plane.”

“You’re welcome. Barbara explained the case to me. It sounds like something right up your alley.”

“Yeah, it sure is.”

“She also said the plan you’re currently running with is Stray’s.” There’s a slight note of disapproval in Bruce’s voice.

“It’s mostly his,” Tim concedes. “He’s the one on the inside, collecting names and faces. I’m pretty much backup but if I see a chance to copy information anywhere, I’ll take it. We just need to connect this group with the holding company and Barbara will have enough to send it on to Interpol.”

“You could just go to Basel and inspect their warehouse.” Bruce turns to Tim finally and cocks an eyebrow. “None of this cloak and dagger charade.”

“I thought about that, but realized there could be other buyers here, ones with different connections on the black market. If we can at least get some names, we can start putting feelers out there and see what hits we get on these other groups. That’s actually the cover Jason is presenting for himself, that he’s representing some other interested parties.”

“They know he’s a thief.”

“A thief with connections and access to a ton of money.” Tim crosses his arms over his chest and tries not to sigh. He knows Bruce is poking holes in his plan because that’s what he does. It gives them both a chance to see if he’s overlooked anything.

But it doesn’t make it any less annoying.

Surprisingly, Bruce backs off. “Greed has been the downfall of many a criminal and it appears to be the case here as well. Have you ever been to Amsterdam before?”

“No.”

“I’ve placed some equipment in the plane that might come in handy if you find yourself needing to navigate the canals. There’s also a scuba version of your uniform with some temperature regulation technology in the event you need to swim. The motorcycle is also fueled and ready for you.”

Tim can’t help but grin. This is how Bruce shows he cares. Not with hugs or words of praise (which do happen sometimes), but with making sure his kids have everything they could possibly need to keep them safe and help with whatever it is they’re working on.

“I appreciate it, Bruce. Thanks.”

He heads back down to the garage to unpack the car and haul his own gear over to the hangar.

Everything is packed away to his liking and he’s raiding the med-bay for any last minute supplies he may need when Damian finally makes an appearance, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt rather than his uniform. The young teen scowls at the sight of Tim.

“What are you doing here, Drake? Can’t keep your own medical supplies well stocked?”

Tim relishes the opportunity to needle Damian tonight. Normally, he tries to be the bigger person, but his nerves are still raw and he’s itching for some kind of confrontation. “I’d love to see you manage all of this on your own. Had any lessons in supply-chain management yet?”

The young Robin scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I know exactly how supplies are ordered and maintained to keep our true activities a secret from the rest of the world.”

“Bravo.” Tim’s hands are full, otherwise he’d clap. Satisfied with his collection, he walks past Damian, debating for all of a second if he wants to brush him _accidently_ as he passes by. The kid is blocking the way, mostly.

He throws caution to the wind and does it, his arm barely touching Damian’s shoulder. Sure enough, the teen reacts by shoving him. “Don’t touch me, Drake,” he snarls.

Tim is barely thrown off balance by the expected move and keeps going. “Then don’t get in my way.”

“This isn’t your home anymore. You can’t order me around.”

Well, this is working a little too well. It sounds like Damian has a bug up his butt about something tonight and Tim’s appearance is a convenient way to vent some frustration. Tim narrows his eyes, glad still that he has his cowl on, and quickly assesses the teen.

Above the collar of his shirt, a bandage is peeking out. That explains it. Damian despises being benched.

“Last time I checked, I still have a room here and can come and go as I please.”

“An invitation that should have been revoked the moment you chose to live apart from us all. The less we see of your disgraceful presence, the better.”

Tim glances over to the computer bank and notices Bruce is still there, sitting and supposedly working. His fingers have stopped moving though. He’s listening to their bickering.

So much for delivering the knockout punch he wants.

“Well, once I load these into the plane and run a fuel check, I’ll be out of your hair,” Tim says in response, purposefully maintaining a nonchalant air that never fails to piss Damian off.

The teen scowls fiercely. “You’re borrowing the _plane?_ ” he growls. “Why did I not know about this? You can barely drive a car, let alone a machine as technologically advanced as the Batplane.”

“Your brother is an excellent pilot,” Bruce says, stepping in finally. He rises from his chair and his long strides close the distance between them in moments, his black cape billowing gently behind him. “As you will be one day after logging more hours in the flight simulator.”

Tim knows better than to preen under the praise, but that doesn’t stop him from taking quiet enjoyment in Damian’s withdrawal under the subtle reproach. “Yes, Father,” the teen replies in a quieter tone.

As if summoned by magic, Alfred appears. “Ah, there you are Master Damian. It’s time to change your bandages.”

Damian scowls some more but allows himself to be herded back into the med-bay.

Alfred spares a moment to speak to Tim. “Master Tim, I packed some refreshments for you to enjoy during your flight. They’re in the cooler chest next to the pilot seat.”

“Thanks, Alfred. I appreciate it.”

“You are most welcome. When you return, I would very much enjoy it if you were to come over for tea and perhaps dinner. This case of yours sounds rather thrilling.”

Tim grins and nods eagerly. “I will, Alfred. I’ll see if I can convince Jason to come too. He’s the one who gets to play super-spy this time.”

“I look forward to it. Be safe, Master Tim.” Alfred pats him on the shoulder and disappears after Damian.

Bruce trails after Tim to the hangar and watches silently as he finishes loading the plane and runs his preflight checks.

“Okay, everything looks good. Thanks again for the loan, Bruce. I’ll take good care of her.” Tim smiles up at his mentor from his seat in the cockpit. The hatch is still open, and Bruce is perched on the outside.

“I know you will,” Bruce replies. “Tim… Be careful with Jason. I know you’re friends, but I’ve seen the way he behaves around you. It’s different than how he interacts with others.”

Dammit. Tim sighs and for the first time since he left Jason’s apartment, he pushes back his cowl. This is a conversation that needs to happen face to face without any barriers between them.

“It’s a little too late for that,” he says. “Not that we’ve done anything more than kiss, but… I want to. I just… I don’t know if what I want from him is the same thing he wants from me.”

Bruce nods slowly. “I know the feeling. Or rather, I know I can’t give Selina what she deserves. But Tim… You are not me. You are so much better and have so much more to give. Don’t let my hang ups stop you from chasing what you want. Even if that person is a cat-thief.”

This… Wow, Tim didn’t come here tonight thinking he and Bruce would have a heart-to-heart, but this… this came at exactly the right time. “Thanks, Bruce. I needed to hear that. Maybe I’ll get lucky and finally convince Jason that being a hero is more fun than being the villain.”

“That boy reads too much classical literature to think of himself as anything other than an antihero.”

Wait, what? “How did you know that?” Tim asks, mouth wide as he gapes. He just found out Jason’s preferred reading tastes last week, how on earth did Bruce know this before him?

“Because I’m Batman.”

~*~*~

Tim has a lot to think about once he’s airborne and has the autopilot turned on. His reaction to Jason earlier… What was that? Why did he freak out over the thought of moving things to the bedroom?

Insecurity, for starters. He isn’t the most experienced person when it comes to sex and other than a few post mission, thank-god-we’re-still-alive fumblings with Kon in the showers at the Tower, Tim hasn’t had a male partner before. Or any partner, really. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t experimented though and he has a good idea for what his likes and dislikes are. With his kind of work, exposure to sex in all its various forms is almost an occupational hazard.

There is also the element of surprise that seems to have thrown him for a loop as well. Tim didn’t expect to find himself in Jason’s lap tonight, tongue wrestling with him. Then again, is it really such a bad thing that Jason is able to do so? His life is so ordered and rigid, his need for control is almost on par with Bruce’s. Having someone around who can throw a wrench into all that and force him to relax and have fun is a good thing.

Whatever his justifications, Tim knows he screwed up tonight, leaving Jason the way he did. He needs to fix it and soon. Before he can overthink it, he sends a text to the thief that stole his heart.

Tim: _I am so sorry for_ _earlier. Please believe me when I say it’s all my fault._

The reply comes about ten minutes later, plenty of time for Tim to start believing he’s fucked things up completely and Jason doesn’t want anything to do with his dumbass anymore.

Jason: _Mama-cat always said Bats were idiots, but I didn’t really believe her until tonight. We need to talk. Or are you too much of a Bat for even that?_

Tim can feel the passive-aggressive vibes from Jason even through his phone, as well as his doubt. He deserves it. He really does.

Tim: _We’ll talk when you get to Amsterdam. I want this, Jason. I don’t want us to be like Bruce and Selina. I want us to actually work._

That’s more than he intends to say via a text message, but he hopes it gets the point across. His phone is dark in his hand before it lights up with another message.

Jason: _That helps a lot, thanks. See you soon._

It’s more than Tim deserves, and he puts his phone away, the nervous tension thrumming through his body settling down into something resembling calm. He then remembers something else he needs to do and takes his phone out again.

Tim: _You found him, didn’t you?_

Cass replies back almost immediately with a winky emoji. Knowing her, she’s been waiting for this moment since they last spoke. Another text comes in, this time with a lipstick kiss and a question mark. She almost never uses words in text messages.

He debates lying to her, but instead sends a lips-are-sealed emoji, and then turns his phone off. If anyone wants to talk to him, they need to use the comm.

Sleep is still impossible, so he takes out his tablet and opens up an eBook of _the Count of Monte Christo._ Might as well try to get through the dense monster of a novel.

Tim is more invested in the story than he expects when his comm chimes about an hour later. “Red Robin, here,” he says absently.

“What’s up, little brother?” Dick says cheerfully over the comm. The sound of the wind crackles the line momentarily, telling Tim that Nightwing is on patrol. 

“I’d say me, at about 15,000 feet.” Tim sets down his tablet.

“Hardy har. Anything interesting to see out there?” 

“Not unless you’re planning to send Starfire to strafe me.” All is black around him. The sky above and the water below are naught but inky darkness, broken only by the dim light of the cockpit control panel. 

“Nah, she’s got better things to do tonight.” Dick pauses before he continues. “So, a little bird told me that  _someone_  is finally on the cusp of admitting he likes a certain cat.” 

Tim wants to strangle Barbara. And Cass. There is no way he’s telling his older brother what happened earlier. Not when he has easy access to Jason and he doesn’t. Dick can be even nosier than them when he wants to be. “Why is my love life of such interest to everyone?” 

“Because you’ve never really had one before and I gotta admit, you’ve got interesting taste in guys.” 

“Tight leather and a mask?” Tim replies, his tone drier than the Sahara. “I don’t know, sounds pretty on point to me, considering who I spend most of my time with.” 

Dick laughs and there’s the sound of the wind again as he moves across the rooftops. “You know what I mean.” 

“Spare me the big brother talk.” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the headache he feels brewing. “You already know how much I like Jason.” 

This was dragged out of him a couple of years ago and hasn’t really been mentioned since.

“I do. What gets me is that for someone who is such a good detective, you’re completely blind to how he feels about you. He totally digs you.”

Yeah, Tim can’t disagree with that statement, not anymore. Still, he’s not giving anything away to Dick. Not yet. “No one says that anymore, you 80’s throwback,” he retorts instead, trying for snark and sass, two things that rarely fail him.

Except tonight against Dick, apparently. “I mean it, Tim. Seriously, you and Bruce are probably the only ones who don’t.” 

That’s not entirely true either, but hell if Tim is going to say a word. “Dick…” he says warningly. “Drop it.”

“Not this time,” Dick replies firmly. “All jokes aside, I think you and Jason are great together. You balance each other out well and I hope this particular trip will open your eyes to what he thinks about you.” 

“You sound like a Hallmark special.” 

“Just make your move, Tim. You’re not going to be turned down, I guarantee it.” 

Tim knows he won’t be, even though he’s certain that he’ll have to make proper amends first after his fuck-up earlier. “You just want someone else around to bother besides me and Damian.”

The sound of a fist meeting flesh comes over the line and Tim waits while Dick takes care of business before he replies. “It doesn’t hurt,” he says after a minute or so. “Honestly though, I see you two as having a real chance at being happy. Don’t be a screw-up like me.”

“You’re not a screw-up, Dick. You just can’t settle down and let all this go.”

His brother laughs loudly at that. “And you can?”

“Hell has a better chance of freezing over first.”

~*~*~ 

The cool detachedness of what Tim likes to call  _the Detective_  takes over once he arrives in Amsterdam and checks into his hotel. He has two days before Jason arrives. Two days before he has to face the thief about why he bolted and left him hanging back home. He hopes that some sort of inspiration or divine intervention will help him out of this particular hole he dug for himself because right now, he’s got nothing.

For now, there are venues to scope out, bugs to place, and escape routes to plot. Plans start to form as soon as he sets foot in the canaled city, playing the part of the tourist to blend in and taking pictures of everything.

The hotel listed on Jason’s invitation is one of those grand old hotels that only ever seem to exist in movies. It’s definitely a place that someone like Bruce Wayne or a member of his family would stay at without hesitation. As it is, Tim checks it out surreptitiously, enjoying a very nice brunch while watching the staff and the guests. 

One thing becomes clear almost immediately. This is too public of a venue for what’s supposed to occur here and cements his and Barbara’s belief that this is just a staging area, a centralized location where all the attendees can be easily transported elsewhere.

Tim can’t help but wonder if the other guests are aware of this fact already. There are bound to be some holdouts if they don’t, people who refuse to risk themselves and their money in such a fashion. 

Ultimately though, what this all means is that transportation has been arranged ahead of time and as Tim sets up shop at a little cafe across the canal with a clear view of the back entrance to the hotel, the more he becomes certain that it will be by boat. He wants to growl in frustration because they still have no idea where the auction is going to be.

Nothing indicates that it will be for more than one night, so the location has to be close enough that the planners can bring their guests back here with little fuss, pleasantly wined and dined, and everyone at least several million dollars lighter in the pocket. 

Tim sips at his coffee and sends a message to Barbara. It’s a shame his Dutch is almost non-existent or else he’d try and nose around the hotel staff. English and French are also spoken with some fluency by the employees, but he’d give himself away as a foreigner immediately upon opening his mouth, so that’s another check in the negative column for that plan. 

“Where are you taking everyone?” he mutters softly and adjusts his sunglasses. Finishing his coffee, Tim leaves the shop and hails a water taxi. It’s time to see the canals up close and personal. 

~*~*~ 

Two days later finds Tim even grouchier because he is no closer to figuring out where the auction is than he was when he arrived. Barbara shares his irritation, planner that she is.

“You’ll need to get a tracker on the boats before they leave,” she’s saying over the comm as Tim angrily goes over more maps of possible locations. 

“No kidding,” he snaps, then pauses and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just hate not knowing the final destination. There are too many variables to account for.” 

“You and me both. At least you’ve got one person with you who is particularly good at improvising.” 

Tim huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, but he’s also just as likely to cause trouble rather than stop it.” 

“You’re the one who was so gung-ho over Jason’s plan,” Barbara reminds him. 

“Do you have a better one?” 

“Nope. Just remember he’s doing all of this because you asked him.” 

This is a fact Tim is well aware of. “I haven’t forgotten.” He sobers quickly and sets aside his tablet. “I also haven’t forgotten that he’s taking a big personal risk in even coming here. These guys could very easily see him as competition to be taken out.” 

“Remember, it takes a thief to catch a thief.” 

“So that’s why Bruce never catches Selina.” Tim chuckles and gets up to stretch. It’s finally getting dark outside and he has more surveillance to do, not that he thinks it will do much good. “Would you make sure Jason has my room number once he checks in? I doubt he’ll want to stay in all night.” 

His flight has just landed. He should be here soon, but Tim still has no idea what to say, so he’s hoping this will buy him a little more time. 

“I will. Let me know if anything changes.” 

“Roger that.” 

Tim gears up and slips out the balcony window, grappling away into the night. 

Amsterdam would be a good city for a vigilante, he’s decided. It’s a nice mix of old architecture and new, but unlike Gotham, there’s an actual rhyme and reason behind the city planning that he can appreciate once he figures it out. The food is good, the coffee is excellent. If he can figure out a way to do it, he’d live off stroopwafels and to hell with his normal diet. But while the city itself is a vigilante playground, there’s not a lot of crime here that would keep someone as well-trained as him going for long. 

He runs across the rooftops for a warm-up and uses the shadows of one of the bridges to cross a canal, disappearing into the trees of one of the many parks dotting the landscape. Yes, this is definitely a city Tim would like to visit again. Maybe even take a few extra days when the mission is over to visit some of the museums and get some practice in with the new camera he recently bought for himself. Practice that doesn’t include surveillance photos.

An hour before midnight, Tim finds himself perched on the roof of what has become his favorite coffeeshop, binoculars trained on the back of the classy old hotel. There’s more activity tonight than last night, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

It galls him to admit that he has no clue where to look next. 

What’s worse is that Jason will be here any moment. The tracker he’d hidden in the thief’s suit is coming up on his position fast, guided no doubt by an ever so helpful Oracle who doesn’t know that the tension between them right now could be cut with a knife.

“Fuck my life,” Tim mutters quietly and lowers the binoculars. 

No more running, no more hiding. 

Jason approaches on silent feet, crouching down next to Tim. He doesn’t say a word, but instead takes the binoculars Tim holds in a loose grip.

“That’s the hotel?” he asks in lieu of any other form of greeting. 

Tim lets out a quiet sigh of relief. Business first. That makes him feel so much better. “Yes. While the front of the hotel is easily accessible by road, a motorcade of any sort would attract attention. I believe they’ll be moving everyone by boat, one, maybe even two at most.”

“And you still have no idea where we’ll actually end up?” Jason’s voice is cool and calm, but Tim can read the line of his shoulders and the tightness there is either from the long flight or stress. Logic dictates that it’s both.

“I have checked out so many different possible venues, but nothing looks right. Unless they’re bold enough to hold a private event at one of the big museums.” 

They’re not, he checked. 

“Oracle passed some of this along before I left,” Jason says quietly. “So I had an idea about halfway over the Atlantic. What if you’ve been looking at this the wrong way? Amsterdam is one of the largest port cities in Europe. If we’re being taken somewhere by boat, why couldn’t it be to another boat, a much bigger one?” 

“Like a cruise ship…” Tim trails off as he considers the possibility. Yes, it could work. It could work very well actually. “There is a lot of river cruise ships utilized around here. They’re not the size of an oceanic cruise liner, but they’re still pretty large. It wouldn’t take very long for a small boat to dock, unload, then whisk everyone away, probably into the Markermeer.”

The North Sea Canal is also an option, but Tim’s gut says otherwise. MRS Holdings has money, but he doesn’t see them taking over a full sized cruise ship for a single night. 

“And then once the auction and all the schmoozing is over, we come back here without ever having a clue as to where we really just spent the night,” Jason finishes for him. 

“Oracle, did you catch all that?” Barbara has been passively monitoring his comms all night, adding her two cents in here and there. Now that Tim isn’t stressing over a confrontation, he realizes it’s probably her presence that is keeping Jason’s mouth shut as she’s in his ear as well.

“I did and I’m already on it,” she replies, her normal voice disguised for Jason. “There are two possible ships listed in the port registry that are both scheduled for a dinner tour tomorrow night. Only one of them is slated to leave well after dark.” 

Tim and Jason share a big grin. Now this is more like it. 

~*~*~ 

“That’s a river cruise ship?” Jason asks incredulously, eyes locked on the long, narrow, double decker boat. It’s positively minuscule next to its ocean traveling cousin, but still impressive at over a hundred and thirty meters in length. 

“What were you expecting?” 

“Something more like a ferry, I guess.” 

Tim hands his binoculars to Jason and frowns. They’re perched a good distance away from the busy, well-lit, berth that the  _Mistral_  sits at. The activity fits what he’d expect the night before an event like the auction, but… “It just seems too small for what’s going on.” 

“Maybe the really big stuff is being kept somewhere else?” Jason has the binoculars trained on the crates.

“Or else the auction is a lot smaller than we thought,” Tim speculates. “I doubt most of the rooms will be used. There has to be some larger, central room inside we can’t see clearly.”

“Or we could be on the roof. If we’re out in the middle of the lake, no one is gonna be able to see squat about where they’re at.”

That’s definitely another option. “We need to get closer.”

“Yeah. But did you see those guards? I can guarantee that they’re packin’ more than just a well cut suit.”

“Since when has that stopped you?”

“Since I don’t have access to Doc Thompkins. She’s a few thousand miles away, last time I checked.”

Tim lets it slide as he’s more concerned with getting a tracking device on not only the river cruise ship, but also the smaller vessel docked alongside it that cargo is also coming from. It looks like a large yacht of some kind, but he can’t see the name from this angle.

“I think we’ll need to split up,” he says after a moment. “Risk of personal injury aside, do you think you might be able to sneak close enough to get a glimpse inside a few of those crates?” 

“Does the Joker think he’s funny?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Tim looks around the empty berth and back out to the  _Mistral_ , eyeing the distance. He’s not wearing the wetsuit Bruce gave him, but he should be alright in his regular one if he’s quick about it. “Okay. You go do your thing and I’ll take a swim.”

One of Jason’s clawed hands snags the edge of Tim’s cape. “Are you kidding? It’s pitch black down there. You won’t be able to see shit, even with your mask.”

The concern warms Tim and he hopes it continues to do so even after he enters the cold water. He doubts there is as much debris in the harbor here as there is back home, but night diving in unknown waters is always a risk. “My cape is detachable, you know that already. I’ll hug the docks and keep in the shadows as best I can. I shouldn’t have to go under too often or for long.”

“You better hope they don’t have sonar. Or a fish finder.”

Tim flips him off. “I’ve been told I’m quite the catch.”

Why does playful or witty banter always seem to come so easily when he doesn’t need it to? He unclips his cape, hiding it in the shadows alongside one of the pylons. The waterproof tracking devices he moves to a higher compartment on his harness for easier access and he takes out his rebreather to do the same. 

Jason is still frowning at him, concern warring with practicality because he knows this is the best option they have with the few hours of darkness they still have left. “Just... Be careful. Your dumbass and I still have a few things to discuss before you do something else monumentally stupid.” 

“Likewise.” On that note, Tim climbs down the side of the wharf and into the cold lake water. 

The technology built into his suit to help regulate temperature does its best to keep him warm, but it wasn’t designed for submersion in ice cold water for an extended period of time. The cold will come, and soon if he doesn’t get moving. In his ear, he listens to Jason make a smart comment to Barbara before he too heads off into the night. 

This is one of those things Tim reminds himself is part and parcel of the whole hero business. Swimming in frigid lakes adjacent to the North Sea sounds all well and good in theory but actually doing so sucks. 

In the water, Tim is virtually invisible to anyone onshore or on the boats, not unless they happen to shine a light directly on him. The risk comes when he has to dive beneath the gently lapping waves. He needs to be able to see the lights from the ships to stay on course while keeping a safe distance beneath the water so that wandering eyes don’t spot the red of his uniform. 

At least the wetsuit he suspects he’ll be wearing tomorrow night is all black. 

“Status check, guys,” Barbara says over the comm after several minutes pass in silence. 

“I’m almost a popsicle,” Tim replies. “When we’re done here, I’ll be down for the count the rest of the night.”

“I’ll make sure to have room service send you some decaf,” Barbara promises. “Stray?”

“I might have to tangle with a dog,” Jason says so quietly that the sensitive communicator barely picks up his voice. 

Tim frowns even as Barbara gives him the order to abort. “We don’t want to give ourselves away and even if you can make best friends with Fido in under thirty seconds, that’s still too much time for him to do what he’s been trained to.” 

“I might not have a choice. Standby.” 

Apprehension tingles down Tim’s spine although that could be the cold water too. He keeps moving. One of them needs to be successful in their tasks and while knowing what’s in those crates would be fantastic, getting trackers on those boats will make his life infinitely easier tomorrow night. 

Assuming this hunch is right. 

There is about thirty feet of open water between Tim and the  _Mistral_  when Jason speaks up again. 

“I managed to give the dog something else to think about. That was close though.” 

“Are you still able to proceed?” Tim asks, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“Yeah. I’m already working on a crate. This’ll probably be the only one I have time for.” 

“Do it,” he orders. “I’m also in position. I’ll check in when I’m done.” 

“Be careful, Red,” Jason growls quietly. “I don’t feel like diving after little red fishies tonight.”

“You can swim?” Tim asks cheekily, already knowing the answer. Stray swims very well.

As Jason swears at him, Tim slips the rebreather into his mouth and slips under the water, pushing off hard against the edge of the wharf to shoot out into the open water toward the back of the river cruise ship. The cold water stings at his face as the world grows even darker. 

In his ear, Barbara is laughing, which sounds all kinds of odd when she’s using the voice modulator. “Focus, Stray. You can pay Red back for that later.” 

“Oh, I plan to.” 

There is no mistaking the dark promise in that voice and if Tim weren’t already shivering as he swam, he’d be doing so in an entirely different manner.

His aim is true, and he reaches the  _Mistral_  in under a minute. It’s blacker than Batman’s cape under the ship, but Tim finds a spot to secure the tracking device. 

Using the shallow hull as a guide, he ever so cautiously resurfaces at the rear of the ship, altogether too close to the currently unmoving propellers. With his head still cowled, he’s simply a black bob in the dark water. Slowly, Tim creeps around to try and get a bead on the other ship. 

This close, it’s definitely a yacht and one that wouldn’t look out of place in Bruce’s collection of rich man’s toys either. Small boxes of cargo are being removed by a handful of men, but overseeing them is a familiar face, her usually carefully coiffed brown hair covered by a floral print scarf to protect it from the wind and spray of the water. 

It’s Michele Moison, the great-granddaughter of Nicolás Moison, one of the cofounders of MRS Holdings. 

“Oracle,” Tim says softly over the gentle rocking of the boat. “I have visual confirmation that we’re finally on the money. Michele Moison is on the yacht.”

“Score,” Jason replies first. “I second that by the way. I’ve got my hands on a very nice scarab pendant that looks Egyptian to me. Probably New Kingdom.” 

“How do you know that?” Tim asks, curious.

“Because unlike some slackers I know, I went to college. I’ve got a degree in art history.”

Barbara laughs some more. “He’s got you there, Red.”

“I’m almost done with my GED,” he mutters, surprised by Jason’s response. He didn’t know the thief has been going to college. But then again, there are a lot of little, personal things he doesn’t know about Jason. This is something he needs to rectify and soon.

“Make sure you put the pendant back,” Barbara orders. “We don’t want to scare them into cancelling the auction.”

“You’re takin’ all the fun outta this.”

Tim can just imagine the pout on Jason’s face, his lips curled up and full. Not now, he reminds himself. “I still can’t see the name of the yacht.” 

“It’s _le Rossignol_ and is registered out of Zurich.” Barbara sounds triumphant and Tim concurs. This is their first solid lead since the discovery of the money trail. 

“I won’t risk tagging it then,” Tim says. “It’s too well-lit and there’s a lot of activity.” 

“Better a live goose than a dead duck,” Barbara agrees. “Or in this case, a live Robin. Get out of there, Red. You’ve got a cat who’s shedding with worry.” 

“I don’t shed.” Jason is clearly snippy over being told he couldn’t keep his prize. “That’s Tig.” 

Tim has a desperate need to shed his soaking uniform and get warm. He bites his tongue and raises his rebreather again. “I’m on my way. Going to try for a straight shot back to the rendezvous.”

Barbara and Jason acknowledge, and Tim is back under the waves, swimming slower than before as his limbs are weighed down more and more by the numbing cold. His own tracker is on and Barbara helpfully offers quiet course corrections as he swims the few hundred yards in complete darkness. 

He’s tired and  _cold_  and by the time he reaches the dock, Tim is pretty sure he can’t feel his fingers anymore. 

Jason wordlessly hauls him out of the water and Tim starts shivering as soon as his body comes into contact with the cool night air. It’s not that it’s all that cold out here, but he’s been submerged in water that is still runoff from winter snow further upstream. His cape is wrapped around his shoulders and it helps insulate him somewhat. 

“Let’s go,” Jason murmurs. “There’s a hot shower and some decaf with your name on it waiting at the hotel.”

Tim can’t wait. He won’t even quibble about the decaf. 

~*~*~

Hot water beats down on Tim’s bare shoulders, rivulets running down his back. The tile is cool under his skin, but that’s fine. Now that the adrenaline and numbing cold is fading away, he’s tired all the way down to his _bones_. The steam and heat envelope him in their embrace and he could easily fall asleep right here, curled up in the shower stall. 

Jason doesn’t give him that chance as he comes bustling back into the bathroom to check on him. “Apparently my room has a tub,” he announces. “Do you feel like packing up and switching?”

The answer to that is a big fat no, which Tim doesn’t hesitate to tell him. “I’m feeling a lot better,” he says carefully, making sure he doesn’t slur. “I just want some sleep.” 

“Well, if you keep this up, you’ll be sleepin’ in the shower and turnin’ into a raisin.” 

Tim doesn’t bother with a reply, which turns out to be a mistake as Jason yanks open the shower curtain and turns off the water. A towel is dropped on his head, blinding him in fluffy whiteness.

“The last time I saw you lookin’ this pathetic was in Berlin and you were having an existential crisis. Get up, dry off, and get your pajamas on.” Jason’s tone brooks no arguments and Tim is too tired to give him one. 

It kind of reminds him of how Alfred treats Bruce when he’s being particularly stubborn. 

That thought is enough to get Tim up and on his feet. He dries off and goes through the motions of brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. Tomorrow, he’ll deal with the sodden uniform hanging on the back of the door to drip. There’s a towel underneath, which makes him smile crookedly because Jason really does think like the practical man he claims to be, despite his penchant for skintight leather. 

Leather that is nowhere in sight when Tim emerges from the bathroom. His jaw drops a little and he has to blink twice because yes, that is Jason lounging shirtless on his bed, dressed only in a pair of pajama pants. 

“Uh...”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You’re still semi-hypothermic so get your head outta the gutter. Unless you really don’t want me here?” 

Tim shakes his head. “No, you’re good. You’re fine. More than fine.” His mouth keeps going, completely disconnected from his brain while Jason’s crooked grin grows the more he babbles. “Shit.” 

“Get over here.” Jason stands and pulls back the covers in the double bed, waiting until Tim picks a side and is settled in before turning off the light and joining him. “I know we need to talk and all, but now doesn’t exactly seem like the right time,” he says, pressing up against Tim’s back while keeping his hands to himself. 

Tim thinks his heart is about to beat right out of his chest. He leans into Jason’s broad chest and sighs happily as the man settles a large hand over his hip. This is the kind of cuddling he is totally down for. 

“It isn’t but if I don’t say this now, I won’t be able to tomorrow,” he replies after a moment. “I tend to overthink things.” 

“I hadn’t noticed.” 

Just because Jason is exuding warmth and comfort doesn’t stop Tim from kicking him lightly for the dry remark. 

“What I did the other night... I panicked. I’ve wanted to be with you for years, Jay. Even when I was screaming in your face for what you did to those drug dealers last year, I didn’t stop.” Tim wants to bury his head in his pillows, never to emerge. He keeps going though, even as he feels Jason completely still behind him, his breath catching at his words. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. You saved me, Jason. Back when I had no one else, you were the one person who was there for me. Believed in me. I’ve never been able to forget that and –"

He stops when the hand on his hip moves up his body to clamp tight over his stomach. “Tim…” Jason whispers, his breath tickling the short hairs at the nape of Tim’s neck. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Why am I the idiot?” Tim manages to fire back. 

“Because I’ve been flirting with  _you_  and only  _you_ , since the moment you turned eighteen.” 

Tim lets out a frustrated groan and tries to roll over. Jason’s arm doesn’t let him, so he flops bonelessly back onto the bed to wait his chance. “You’re Stray. You flirt with  _everybody_!” 

“But you’re the only one I’ve ever let touch.” 

The words echo around in Tim’s head, his memory suddenly proving a plethora of helpful images backing up Jason’s statement. All this time, all the clues that he’d overlooked. Tim sighs as all the fight, what little there was, leaves him. “I’m an idiot,” he says in agreement. 

“Yes, you are.” Jason presses a kiss to the back of Tim’s neck. “Now go to sleep. I’m jet lagged and you’re a drowned kitten.” 

“I am not a kitten.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Tim relaxes into Jason’s arms, warm and sleepy and, most importantly, content with what he now has. Before he can fall asleep though, he has one burning question that needs an answer. “Jason? Does this mean we’re dating now?” 

“I’m half-naked in a hotel bed with you and I just said that I haven’t let anyone even remotely touch me sexually in almost three years. What does that tell you?”

“That there’s a really good chance we’re having sex in the morning?” 

~*~*~

When Tim finally wakes up, the first thing he notices is that he’s warm. It’s the perfect kind of warmth that comes from a subtle harmony of air temperature and blankets that cannot be forced or recreated in a controlled environment. He should know, he’s tried.

Perfect comfy.

Next to him, Jason stirs and shifts slightly, the strong line of his body pressing against Tim’s back.

Oh. _Oh._ Tim blushes when he remembers what he said last night before Jason tried to smother him with a pillow. The easy laughter and wrestling over the covers soon died down into one of the most relaxing slumbers he’s had in quite a while.

Jason never answered his question, Tim realizes now. Perhaps this is for the best, at least for the moment. There’s a lot to do today and he doesn’t need to be distracted by all that bare skin he remembers from last night.

Bare skin that could be his to touch if he grows a pair and just _rolls over_.

That decision is made for him when Jason moves again, this time onto his back and stretching as he wakes up with a wide yawn.

Tim doesn’t move and tries to keep his breathing level, forcing his body to relax in an illusion of slumber.

“I know you’re awake, dumbass.” Jason’s voice is hoarse from sleep. It sends a tingle downs Tim’s spine, much like it did last night in the lake. So much for subtlety.

“No, I’m not,” Tim says, playing along. “You’re dreaming.” He burrows into the covers for emphasis.

Jason huffs a small laugh. “If I was dreamin’, then we’d both be naked and your cock would be balls deep in my ass.”

Tim groans as something he’s been trying to ignore grows harder between his legs. “I’ve… never done that before,” he admits quietly.

Behind him, he hears Jason sit up and imagines the sheet falling to his waist, revealing the strong torso and broad shoulders that are haunting Tim’s memory. “Not even with Stephanie?”

He sounds surprised and Tim wants the floor to open up and swallow him. “Nope. The few times we tried, I just… wasn’t into it.”

The first time could be explained away due to exhaustion on both their parts, but the second time? No, that was all Tim discovering that the beautiful girl with her hand down his tights just didn’t do it for him.

“Well, fuck.” Jason sounds disappointed and Tim finally gets the stones to roll over and face him. In the faint light coming through the balcony curtains that didn’t get closed properly the night before, the reality of all that skin and muscle is even better than his memory.

“What’s wrong?”

“I gotta admit I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t think the nickname Boy Virgin applied to you still. I’ve heard a few stories about you and the Super Clone.”

Tim can’t help it. He starts laughing. “Kon and I are just friends. Yeah, we’ve given each other a _hand_ before, but that’s about it.”

Jason looks down at him and shakes his head, a smile quirking up at the corners of his mouth. “A hand, huh?”

Crap. This is it. This is the moment where Tim can either make a move or let it pass him by. A million scenarios flood his mind, but really, there’s only one choice he can make. The choice made with his heart rather than his head. 

Tim’s gaze flicks down to the sheets pooled around Jason’s waist. At the sculpted muscle and the fine trail of hair that starts below his navel and disappears into the top of his sleep pants. He breathes in through his nose and lets it out slowly. “I can give you one, if you want.” 

It’s hard to say which of them move first, but in moments, Tim finds himself once again in Jason’s lap straddling those tree trunks he calls thighs and their mouths firmly sealed together, morning breath be damned. Hands move everywhere, and Tim’s thin t-shirt is yanked up and over his head to be flung off into some far corner of the room. 

There’s all that bare skin Tim has been itching to touch, to feel pressed against his own. He drags his fingers up and over Jason’s chest and feels him shudder beneath him as he scrapes against his nipples. Mouths break apart to gasp in some much needed air before their lips crash back together. 

Jason’s hands drop to Tim’s waist and he dips his fingers under the waistband of the flannel sleep pants. Their kiss breaks in favor of him mouthing along Tim’s jaw. “I’ve wanted to touch you, _feel you_ , for so fuckin’ long.” 

Tim ducks his head to start nibbling his way down the column of Jason’s neck. “Me too.” His words are escaping him as his blood flows away from his brain and into his groin. Shifting on Jason’s lap, he rocks forward and feels the hard length in Jason’s pants against his own. 

The hands on his waist slip even further down to grab the firm globes of his ass, a steely grip holding him in place. “Do that again,” Jason orders and Tim is happy to oblige. 

Again and again, and Tim feels as though he could come right here, just like this, rubbing off like a horny teenager. Well, not that he did this all that much as a teenager, but he doesn’t want his first time with Jason to ruin what are probably the only pajamas either of them packed. 

Tim jerks back and rises up on his knees, shoving his sleep pants and boxers down. Beneath him, Jason quickly does the same, revealing a thick cock that makes Tim want to mewl, as well as puzzle out how he can get the whole thing in his mouth and down his throat without choking. This is a problem for another time though and he falls back onto Jason ravenously, taking a moment to tease the little buds on his chest, which has the surprising effect of making Jason’s head fall completely back against his pillows as he arches into the touch. 

Someone is _sensitive_ there. Good to know. 

He keeps at it, licking and nipping lightly with his teeth, switching off only once the first one is good and red. His hips never stop moving and Jason’s hands hold him so tightly there are probably going to be finger shaped bruises in his skin later. The fact that a little pain mixes with his pleasure doesn’t bother him, as it seems to amplify the effect. He’s never thought of himself as a masochist before and while there’s a certain amount of sense to it, he shoves that thought to the side to be analyzed at a more convenient time. 

His mouth finally returns to Jason’s, capturing all the pretty little gasps and moans he’s been uttering. 

“Fuck, you’re tryin’ ta kill me, aren’t you?” Jason moans against Tim’s lips. 

Tim stills instantly. “Crap. Umm, am I? I’m just doing what feels good.” 

Jason picks Tim up and thrusts hard into the tight space between their bodies, his cock slick with pre-come so that he slides easily beside Tim’s own. “Don’t stop movin’, my pretty bird. You’re doin’ just fine.” 

Okay then. Tim keeps going, remembering almost too late that he’s supposed to have a hand wrapped around them both. He draws back just enough to grip his dick and Jason’s, giving them something to thrust into. 

It’s enough for him. More than enough. Tim comes after only a few strokes, spilling into his hand with a moan that wouldn’t be out of place in a porno. Jason’s hand wraps around his, tightening his grip even more. The stimulation is too much for Tim, but then he feels Jason pulsing around him, adding his release into the sticky mess. 

Tim collapses against Jason’s chest, breathing heavy, before rolling off the larger man and onto his back. He raises his damp hand and idly stares at the shine, visible in the dim twilight of the room. 

Beside him, Jason drapes an arm over his eyes and heaves a heavy sigh. “Is it wrong that I wanna know when we’re gonna do that again?” 

A weak chuckle escapes Tim’s lips. “No. I do too. But…” he pauses and glances at the bedside clock, “it’s after noon and we have things to do before the show starts tonight.” 

Jason groans dramatically. “ _Fine._ Just promise that when this shit’s done later, one of the first things you’re gonna do is me.” 

That is something Tim can more than emphatically say yes to. 

~*~*~ 

Food is a requirement before anything else happens, so after they get cleaned up, Tim takes Jason for a walk toward the park closest to their hotel. While there are a lot of things he still has to learn about the man, he does know that he doesn’t care for overly frivolous food. Food trucks, street vendors, little hole in the wall restaurants – these are much more Jason’s speed. 

His too, when given the choice, but Tim is a snob enough to know he also enjoys the more experimental side of fine dining. 

In the busy park, they find a herring cart, something that Tim has decided he loves almost as much as stroopwafels. Jason is more cautious and while he tries the herring, the next cart they find is more to his liking and he orders a kibbeling meal that he tucks into with much greater gusto. 

“Okay, so I know this is just a fish fry, but it’s a damn good fish fry,” Jason comments, licking his fingers when he’s done. 

Tim doesn’t disagree. “You still hungry?” 

“I’ve got a new city full of street carts to explore, whaddya think?” 

“I think it’s time for dessert.” 

They’re standing along one of the canals with the remains of their stroopwafels when Tim’s phone rings. 

It’s Barbara. 

“Good afternoon,” Tim says as he answers it. “Isn’t it early for you?” 

“Too early,” Barbara agrees. “Tell Jason to answer his phone. This will be easier if he’s on the line too.” 

Tim glances over to Jason and finds he’s taken a few steps away to give him some privacy. The thief cuts a rather handsome figure leaning against the railing, sunglasses in place and the same leather jacket Tim remembers from their un-date a couple weeks ago. Actually, now that he looks at that through the lens of hindsight, that was totally a date. 

He really is an idiot. 

“It’s for you too,” Tim calls out. “Answer your phone.” 

Jason looks surprised but does as he’s told. “I hope someone else is picking up my phone bill this month.” 

“This call won’t even show up on your phone records,” Barbara replies. 

Eyes widening, Jason’s jaw drops momentarily before he recovers. “I always knew you had to have a gorgeous voice. Nice to hear it finally.” 

It takes Tim a moment to realize that Barbara is speaking to them without her voice synthesizer. Wow, now there’s a step he didn’t expect from the all-seeing Oracle. 

“Thanks, Jason.” Barbara’s voice takes on a more professional tone. “Now, on to business.” 

Tim can’t help but notice they both straighten up slightly. 

“I received a call from my contact at Interpol this morning. They’re aware I have agents on the case already and wanted to inform me to call them off.” 

Jason frowns. “What the hell?” 

“Talk about last minute,” Tim adds a little bitterly. All that work he’s done and it’s about to get flushed down the drain. 

It’s clear Barbara isn’t pleased either. “They have the name of the hotel that’s on the invite, as well as the date, which you knew already, Tim. That place is going to be crawling with Interpol agents tonight, trying to be discreet. I told my contact we have proof that the auction won’t be held there, and I passed on our suspicions about the _Mistral._ ” 

“What about MRS Holdings?” Tim asks. “And _le Rossignol_?” 

“I’m getting to that.” Over the line, they hear her take a sip of what’s probably a strong cup of coffee. “Interpol is much more interested at the moment in catching these guys in the act, so we’re changing objectives tonight. What I’m after now is a buyers list. _Who_ are they getting their goods from? If we can get our hands on that, then I can set my Birds on tracking them down and taking them out of business.” 

Jason laughs quietly at that. “That’s taking all the fun out of it, boss.” 

“Like I told Tim a few days ago, it takes a thief to catch a thief, so I might just be putting you on retainer here soon, Jason. This is right up your alley.” 

“I like the idea of a steady paycheck,” Jason replies with a wink to Tim. 

Bruce’s words about Stray seeing himself as more of an antihero are coming back to haunt Tim. Why he didn’t see this before, he has no clue because it’s as clear as day. 

“So where does this leave us, then?” Tim asks. 

“I purposefully withheld any connection to MRS Holdings from Interpol, at least for now. Tonight, while they’re mucking up our entire operation, I want you and Jason to fly to Basel and raid their headquarters. I’m sending you blueprints, information I’ve found on their security system, as well as dossiers on all their security personnel. When you’re done, there’s a landing strip not too far from there where I’ve made arrangements for you to refuel and then head home.” 

“Man, and here I was hoping to play tourist a little longer,” Jason complains. “I wanted to check out the Van Gogh Museum and the Rijksmuseum.” 

“I can think of plenty of reasons why that’s a bad idea,” Tim says and teasingly elbows Jason in the side. The thief sticks his tongue out childishly. “O, do you think we can delay that for at least a few more nights? It’s been awhile since I’ve had a vacation.” 

“And the cheese museum,” Jason adds, his grin lighting up his face when he realizes Tim is on his side. “I read about it on the plane.” 

“You guys are ridiculous. Are you officially dating yet?” 

The question comes out of the blue and Tim’s ears start burning. Never has he been so glad that there are a few thousand miles between him and home. If Barbara only knew what they’d been up to just a couple hours before… 

But Jason takes it all in stride. “Depends. Is there money on it?” 

“Maybe,” Barbara replies. 

“I want a third and some fancy ass dinner reservation here in Amsterdam for tomorrow night where I get to wear my tux.” 

“Done.” 

“Hey, Tim. Wanna be my boyfriend? We shoulda made it official before doin’ the do earlier.” 

Tim seriously debates throwing himself into the canal. 

~*~*~ 

That night, they fly to Basel. The flight is quick, less than 500 miles, and it barely feels like they’re in the air before Tim is maneuvering the Batplane into position over their target. He enables stealth mode and heads to the back of the plane where Jason is waiting. 

“I’ve never jumped out of a plane before,” he admits as Tim double checks the harness he’s wearing. The guide rope will keep them on target and allow for a swift exit when they leave. 

“You’ve free-falled off the top of Wayne Tower so you’ll be fine. We’re not even a hundred feet from the roof.” 

“Well, in that case…” Jason laughs and adjusts his goggles. He’s in full gear while Tim is wearing the wetsuit Bruce packed for him. His normal uniform is still overly damp from his dip in the Markermeer last night and the last thing they need tonight is him wearing squishy boots. 

In this suit, he actually looks more like an accomplice to Stray since the wetsuit is almost fully black, with just a few red panels along the side and over his chest. Tim brings his utility belt and harness and have them strapped on. The cape he does kind of miss, but the mask he has on is more than enough for what they’re up to. 

Tim clips on their decel lines and opens the hatch. 

Below them, Basel sleeps, lights twinkling all around while a black stripe that is the Rhine River divides it in half. MRS Holdings has a showroom in the heart of the city, but here on the edges is where their main warehouse is located. 

“Ready?” Tim asks. 

“I was born ready.” With that, Jason jumps out of the plane, no sign of his earlier apprehension present. 

Tim is hot on his heels and in moments, the line goes taut. He lets it out little by little and his feet hit the roof about ten seconds later. 

Jason is already moving, unclipped from the line and heading toward the access panel. At this point in the game, it’s his show, the master thief finally having a chance to show off his skills. He’d spent the afternoon studying the blueprints and security details that Barbara provided them, curled up in what Tim is now thinking of as _their_ bed while he took over the desk. The balcony door had been open and provided a cool breeze while traffic from the canal below made up the usual cacophony that both were used to after spending all their lives living in a big city. 

Hanging back, Tim watches Jason work and very soon, a satisfied smirk appears on the thief’s handsome face. 

“I’m in. We’ll have about ninety seconds to make it to the security room. If these guys follow their procedures, there will be one guard there to take out while the other guy is wandering around.” 

“That was fast,” Tim says approvingly. 

“The company that makes this alarm also does car alarms. They hired me as a consultant after I cracked one of their supposedly unbeatable alarm systems when I got out of juvie. The same base programing is used for all of their alarms, so knowing how to beat one just means easy access for the others.”

Tim gapes. His new boyfriend is just full of surprises. “I need to hear this story.” 

Jason grins at him. “There’s not much more to it than that. I used the money to pay for college. Just say when and we’re in.” 

College. It almost feels like a dirty word to Tim at this point. He’ll need to do something about that, and soon. “The sooner we’re in, the sooner we can leave. On your mark.” 

“Get set.” 

“Go.” 

The door slides open and they make their way inside, dropping onto the narrow catwalk above the wide open floor beneath them. Jason pauses only to close the panel behind them while Tim takes point and heads directly to the security room about three hundred feet away. Of course, all the offices have to be grouped together at the far end of the warehouse while their point of entry is at the other side, but this is actually the route with less risk. Always a bonus, but Tim is particularly well aware that he’s not wearing his usual kevlar tonight. 

They move swiftly and silently, the distance disappearing under their feet. The window of the security room is the only lit room and Tim spots two people in there, a man and a woman. The blonde man is wearing a uniform, but the woman is wearing decidedly less. 

“So much for stealth. We could probably drop a bomb in here and they wouldn’t notice,” Jason comments as he comes to a stop beside Tim. 

“Probably, but the schedule says there are two men on duty tonight. This is screwing up our plan.” Tim knows it’s a poor choice of words as soon as they leave his mouth. 

Jason gives the two people having sex in the security room a critical eye before he smirks. “No, I’m pretty sure she’s the one gettin’ screwed. Five bucks says she’s a regular visitor here when these two pricks are workin’ together.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Because it’s early enough in the night that the other guard is gonna be back soon for his turn.” Jason nudges Tim in the side. “Stop overthinkin’ things. They’re not payin’ any attention to what’s goin’ on and blondie there isn’t thinkin’ with more than his dick at the moment. Get in there and knock them out. I’ll find the other guard.” 

Tim reaches into a compartment and hands Jason a little dart. “There’s a fast acting sedative in that. Don’t forget to take the cap off and try to stick it in the neck. Works best that way.” 

“You guys have all the best toys.” Jason disappears over the side of the catwalk and into the darkness below. 

It’s almost annoyingly easy to sneak into the security room and knock out the guard and the hooker. Or girlfriend, who’s to say? The room smells like sex and Tim wishes he could keep the door open to air it out, but Jason hasn’t sent the all clear yet. 

Instead, he breathes shallowly and takes over the security system, looping the cameras and erasing any sign of their earlier entry. Not that there’s any as Jason is very good at what he does. 

“Status check,” Barbara says over the comms. She’s been silent from the get go, monitoring the situation in Amsterdam more out of perverse amusement than any real need. 

“I’ve got two sleeping beauties in here,” Tim replies, his voice pitched low so that it doesn’t carry. 

“Two?” 

Jason laughs quietly. “Add one more. Red, you won’t believe where I found this guy.” 

Tim doesn’t want to know, he really doesn’t, but he knows he’s going to be told anyway. “Where?” 

“Flippin’ through a catalogue of some rather risqué engravings. Someone was definitely waitin’ for his turn.” 

Barbara sighs and Tim can just imagine her rolling her eyes. “Focus, Stray. Red Robin, you’re up.” 

Tim is out of the room in a flash, heading toward the first office they identified as possibly containing the information they’re searching for. 

Moison’s office is just a few doors down the short hallway. It’s locked, of course, but Jason isn’t the only one who knows his way around a lockpick. Tim opens the door cautiously, checking for any traps, but the company CEO apparently has great faith in her security system and the two horny guards on the current rotation. Their lack of professionalism grates on his nerves. If you’re going to do a job, do it right. 

The office is simple enough on the surface. A desk and chair opposite the door with a window behind them looking out over the river. Two chairs are arrayed in front of the desk and there’s a small sofa along one wall with a coffee table in front of it. Tim suspects that if he has Jason look closely at the paintings on the wall, they won’t be finding replicas. 

More to his liking, there’s a computer sitting on Moison’s desk. Tim rounds the desk to take a seat and stops short when he spots the low file cabinets against the wall, cleverly hidden from view by anyone who comes in the way he did. 

“I think I know why we’ve been unable to find an electronic record,” Tim announces to Barbara and Jason. “There isn’t any.” 

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.” Jason’s voice echoes and Tim spots him standing in the doorway. 

“Paper?” Barbara asks. She doesn’t sound entirely surprised. 

“Yep. There’s a computer here, but I bet our jackpot is in one of these cabinets.” Tim takes a picture and sends it to Barbara. “It’ll take hours to scan everything.” 

“Sonnuvabitch. I did not sign up to be a desk monkey.” Jason sounds extremely put out. 

“The guards won’t be asleep for that long either. A couple hours at most.” Tim is already kneeling and picking the lock on the first cabinet. “Stray, I know you’re no slouch around a computer. Check that out for me in case I’m wrong.” 

It went unsaid that Tim wants to be wrong. That he wants to be able to download all the information they need from the old computer so they can return to Amsterdam and fall back into bed together. Never in his life has Tim felt this aware of another person before. He wants to reach out, to touch, to sneak a kiss. His vaunted self-control will shatter to pieces if he does. 

Jason grumbles, but takes a seat. “As much as I hate to admit it, we all know you’re right.” 

“We don’t know that for sure.” 

“Liar.” 

~*~*~ 

In the end, Tim is right. There’s nothing of note the computer, just sales records and invoices that he’s combed through already. But as he goes through the paper files, a different story emerges. 

“Duplicate invoices,” he says about thirty minutes later. “I haven’t quite figured out the pattern here, but I can tell there’s a code with how they’re filed.” 

“Do you have your pocket scanner with you?” Barbara asks.

“Yeah, but it’s going to take hours. And we still don’t have a list of their buyers.” 

“Slow your roll there, Red.” Jason is kneeling in front of the far filing cabinet and rifling through the folders. “You won’t believe what I just found.” 

“What?” Tim scoots over to crouch beside the thief. 

Jason hands him a file folder. “My German is a bit rusty but take a look at that.” 

“Käufer.” 

In their ears, Barbara snorts in surprise. “You’re kidding.” 

Tim already has his scanner out and is sending the documents to Oracle, reading as he goes. German is a language he’s nearly fluent in. “Nope. He’s not. I recognize one of the names here too. Lars Forsberg. He was friends with Dad.” 

Jack Drake had a lot of foreign friends that came to Gotham to visit, now that he really thinks about it. Forsberg stands out in his memory because of his accent. He’d never heard a Swedish accent until then and the rolling lilt stuck because it really did hit every single one of the stereotypes for a Scandinavian speaking English. 

When he gets home, he needs to spend some more time with his dad’s private files. He’s skimmed them but has never taken a deeper look. This is clearly an oversight on his part. 

“We takin’ this with us, then? If Interpol does their job tonight, they’re gonna be here tomorrow.” 

“Leave it,” Barbara says in a tone that brooks no arguments. “Scan everything in that folder and anything else you think may be relevant.” 

While Tim does just that, Jason asks Barbara a question he’s been wondering about too. “How are things in Amsterdam tonight? I know you’ve got eyes in that hotel.” 

“I do,” Barbara replies. “And eyes on the docks thanks to a conveniently repositioned satellite. We were right on the money that Moison would be transporting everyone to the _Mistral_. From the communications chatter I’m picking up, that’s thrown the Interpol agents off.” 

Jason laughs as he stands and starts pacing around the office. He’s almost as bad as Dick about keeping still. “I gotta admit, I’m curious about what they all thought when I didn’t show. Hey, does that mean I get a refund on my deposit?” 

Tim bites back a comment about the thief’s high opinion of himself. They all have egos, but it’s not his job to stroke Jason’s. He gets back to scanning while Jason and Barbara chatter about how Interpol almost didn’t make it to the docks in time. 

The folder itself contains a small dossier on each dealer MRS Holdings has dealt with over the last fifty or so years. There’s nothing incriminating about the information in the slightest, which explains why it’s sitting out in the open like this, but as Tim reads through the folder, he recognizes more than just Forsberg’s name. Alexis Leroy, a name his memory associates with foul smelling cigarettes that the Frenchman couldn’t get enough of. Tahir Sayed, who Tim remembers giving his mother a gift of assorted Turkish delight that she shared with him. 

When he gets home, he’s got a good idea for how to track these guys down. With these particular men, his family name _will_ open a few doors. Barbara and her Birds aren’t allowed to have all the fun. 

While Tim is busy with the files, he does keep enough presence of mind to spare a glance or two over at Jason. The thief is flipping through a glossy catalogue he found somewhere and eyeing a painting on the wall. This place has to be a gold mine for him and he’s doing surprisingly well in keeping his hands to himself. 

“You almost done?” Jason asks, sensing Tim’s eyes on him. 

“Just about. I want to take another fifteen minutes to rifle through the other drawers and we can be on our way.” 

“Works for me. I’m gonna go check on our sleepin’ babies. This is boring.” 

He’s out of the office before Tim has a chance to tell him to stay put. 

“You should probably check his pockets before you leave,” Barbara comments. 

“He’d enjoy that too much,” Tim replies. 

Jason snorts derisively. “I heard that.” 

The rest of the folders don’t yield anything of particular note, so Tim wraps things up. He locks the door behind him as he leaves and finds Jason in the security room amusing himself with repositioning the guard into a rather lewd position while the woman has been covered and left to sleep it off where she fell earlier. 

“I’m done,” Tim announces. “Let’s go.” 

The cat-thief sidles up to him and wraps his arms around Tim’s waist. “Hey. I was a good boy the entire time. I think I deserve a prize.” 

“And I’m sure you have it picked out already too.” 

“I do.” Jason draws even closer and captures Tim’s mouth, stealing his breath away even as his hands drop even lower, kneading the firm flesh. He licks and bites his way inside, battling with Tim’s tongue. 

Tim is pretty sure Jason is on a first name basis with his tonsils by the time he’s released from the heated embrace. “What brought that on?” he manages to ask while relearning how to breathe properly.

“Do you have any idea how fantastic your ass looks when it’s not hidden by that damn cape?” 

“No. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me in explicit detail later.” 

~*~*~ 

Refueling the Batplane goes without a hitch and by the time they’ve landed, hidden the plane, and make their way back into Amsterdam, there’s barely an hour before dawn left. Tim had taken an extra step earlier and packed up much of his Red Robin gear into the plane. The mission is complete, even if he can’t quite abandon his utility belt. They take turns changing into civvies and Jason takes great delight sitting in the pilot’s seat, even if the autopilot does all the work. 

As soon as they enter Jason’s hotel room, the tension that’s been building between them all day finally has a chance to be unleashed. Clothes are tossed to the far corners of the room as they fall onto the bed, laughing. They make-out for a while, exploring each other’s bodies lazily at first, but the intensity soon grows. 

“I feel like a fuckin’ teenager again,” Jason says, his eyes dark and skin flushed as Tim slicks up two fingers. 

“You’re such an old man,” Tim teases. “All hot and bothered for the younger model.” The banter helps him relax. He’s no stranger to his own fingers working himself open, but this is the first time he’s done it with another person. 

Jason takes the first finger easily and arches up beneath Tim, showing off the long line of his body and very erect cock. “I wanted you before you were even _legal_. So get to it, pretty bird. I’ve waited long enough.” 

Tim is more than happy to comply. 

Fucking Jason is hot and messy and loud and slick and all kinds of other things that Tim’s brain can’t provide words for. Neither of them expects him to last all that long once he’s inside, the tight muscle of Jason’s ass clenching around him like a vice. Tim does manage to make it a few minutes and even finds the spot where he can brush against Jason’s prostate, sliding back and forth over it several times, enjoying the curses that fall from his lover’s mouth. 

His release hits Tim hard, barreling into him like a freight train. He slumps forward, riding the aftershocks while Jason sneaks a hand between them and finishes himself off. 

Tim eventually rolls off him and stares at the mess on Jason’s stomach, glistening in the lamplight. “Is it always like that?” he asks after a moment. “The rush, the insane climax?” 

He’s read enough books to know a lot of what he feels right now is adrenaline and endorphins, that this is all so shiny and new his body simply craves more of it. The thrill will fade over time as he does it more, which is just sad because how could he ever get used to having sex with Jason Todd? 

Jason stretches and idly scratches his belly, not caring at all that he’s making an even bigger mess. “Yes and no?” he finally says. “I’ve never been with someone long enough to get over that initial rush.” He glances over at Tim and offers a shy smile. “Wanna find out with me?”

The answer to that is an emphatic yes. Tim beams at him and leans over to kiss him gently. “I do.” 

~*~*~ 

A week later, Tim meets up with Barbara for lunch at an Indian restaurant tucked away in the middle of Gotham’s Upper East Side. 

“You look nice and relaxed,” she says when Tim sits down across from her. 

“I’ve been on vacation for a week, I’d better be,” he retorts and picks up the menu, already knowing what’s about to come. 

“You mean you’ve been getting laid,” Barbara replies, tossing her bright red hair back with an equally brilliant smile. “Thanks for pulling your head out of your ass, finally. Winning the pool was especially nice.” 

There was a pool. As in, a betting pool over his sex life. Tim lowers the menu to glare pointedly at his companion. “Don’t forget to give Jason his share. He helped you win.” 

“Already done, even if Dick hasn’t paid up yet. He’s still waiting to hear all this from you.” 

“Joy.” 

A waiter stops by the table and they give their respective orders to him. This place is a favorite of Tim’s, so he tends to rotate between several dishes on the menu, all large enough for leftovers. 

Tim sips at the delicate tea Barbara ordered for them. “What’s the story on MRS Holdings? Interpol finally make the connection?” 

He’s been a bit distracted and hasn’t been keeping up with things. That’s okay, if anything major was going on, Barbara or even Bruce would have gotten a hold of him. 

“They did.” Barbara takes a small sip of her hot tea and settles the cup loosely between her hands. “At first, it seemed like Moison and her crew were going to slip away in the confusion after the raid on the _Mistral_. There was a lot of outrage from the guests, many of whom believed the auction was legit, if just exclusive.” 

“That should have been their first clue.” 

“Right? Anyway, there were so many people taken into custody that it took a couple days to get it all sorted. The auctioneers were all using fake names and some work had actually been done into making believable cover stories for everyone.” 

“What tripped them up?” Tim leans back into the chair and grins. “It had to be something.” 

Barbara’s smirk is edged with smugness. “I decided they were taking too long, so I faked a DUI record for one of Moison’s underlings and set up a print match back in Switzerland. It all came tumbling down after that. Interpol raided MRS Holdings two days ago and is still trying to make sense of everything. I’m keeping an eye on them, but I think we have more than enough to get started on this end to keep us busy.” 

Tim shakes his head and laughs. “Now that I’m home, I’ll start going through Dad’s records again, see if I can get a feel for what exactly he was doing. I recognized three names from that file. Hell, I’ve even had _dinner_ with them.” 

“It’s definitely a start. Keep me updated and let me know if I can help at all. I know I said I was going to turn this over to the Birds, but you’ve got a personal connection now and I think we can utilize it.” 

“That’s the plan. Jason is definitely invested in this too and wants to help if we can find a use for him.” 

“He’s a thief, he just wants to play with all the shiny new toys,” Barbara replies flippantly. There’s no condescension in her words, just a statement of fact. 

“Can you blame him? He says he’s had the chance to use his degree more in the last week than he has since he graduated.” 

“And how does that make you feel?” 

“Like I need to stop making excuses and finish my GED.” 

“It’s about time.”

~*~*~ 

The next morning, Tim wakes up to a face full of white and gray fluff. Groaning, he rolls over and buries his head into Jason’s shoulder. “Your cat is trying to smother me,” he mumbles. 

“She does that to me too. It’s her way of sayin’ she’s hungry.” 

Jason makes no move to get out of bed and feed his cat. 

Tim grumbles as Antigone’s tail flicks over his ear again and again. He didn’t come over here last night to be harassed by his boyfriend’s cat. Morning is for sleep and cuddles, maybe even that lazy morning sex they both enjoy a little too much. 

“Where’s her food?” he finally asks. Feeding the cat means she’ll leave the room and he can close the door behind her, leaving them to more important things without her judging glare. 

“Pantry. Second shelf. She gets a small can of wet food in the mornin’.” Jason’s face is buried in his pillow so it’s a surprise Tim can even make that much out. 

This is what domesticity feels like, Tim decides as he crawls out of the nice warm bed and pads out of the room, Antigone hot on his heels trying to trip him. 

The cat is daintily eating her breakfast by the time Tim becomes a little more aware of his surroundings. Glancing around the living room on his way back to bed, something strikes him as off but he’s not sure what. The furniture hasn’t been rearranged and the large flatscreen TV is still mounted on the wall. The bookshelves are as haphazardly organized as before, the logic there only making sense to Jason. 

Next to the flatscreen though hangs a picture Tim doesn’t remember. Approaching it slowly, a sinking feeling appears in his stomach as he takes in the soft colors and delicate depiction of light on water. _“Ja-son!”_ he calls out. “What the hell is this?” 

From the bedroom, Jason grumbles as he gets out of bed. 

Tim doesn’t move when strong arms wrap around his bare waist and an equally naked body presses against his. 

Jason rests his chin against Tim’s head. “I didn’t think you’d notice that,” he says after a moment, not sounding guilty in the slightest. 

“What is it?” Tim takes a deep breath, trying for patience. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Renoir, but it’s not in any of the catalogues I searched through. I love Impressionist art and took a few classes on it, but I’ve never seen this painting before. Moison has good taste.” 

The sinking feeling grows. “Are you trying to tell me this is an unknown painting by one of the founders of Impressionism?” 

“Maybe? I need to dig around some more. A lot of private collections were raided and presumed lost in World War I and II. If I can research the provenance and there’s a living heir somewhere, I’ll send it their way. Until then…” Jason kisses the shell of Tim’s ear. “Until then, I’m gonna enjoy it.” 

Tim lets out a huge sigh. This is what he gets for falling in love with a thief. “You just had to have a souvenir, didn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t call this a souvenir since I really am gonna see if I can find its true owner. The scarab pendant, on the other hand…” 

“I knew I should have searched you before we left.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Out of curiosity, I'm curious to see how many little Easter eggs from my other stories you guys spotted here? There are quite a few! 
> 
> Until next time!


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